


Deal

by roxymissrose



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Psychic Bond, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Transformation, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 54,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxymissrose/pseuds/roxymissrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere in the desert, Alexander Joseph Luthor died, but that was just the beginning of the story. </p><p>Clark and Lex are shattered; Adam Knight is the glue that holds them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at LJ in 2006. Also posted in the Smallville Slash Archive at AO3. this is a cleaned up and slightly edited-for-readability version of the story. I hope you read this one instead of the original. Oy.

Lex cruised slowly down the dark, wet streets; looking….

He passed a group of girls, slowed down and looked them over—short, short skirts, torn stocking, thigh high boots, almost enough makeup to cover bruises and scars and bad skin from bad nutrition. 

Another street, another group of strangers. He rolled slowly along, drawing attention. A Porsche in this neighborhood at this time of night wasn't unusual; it said money loud and clear—drew them in like bait.

He finally rolled to a stop at one corner, watched a young man unfold himself from the wall and stroll over to the car. He leaned in the window with a smirk. "Hey, man. Nice car. I always wanted a ride in a car like this." 

He stared at Lex and stroked the gleaming, curved side of the car. He was thin as a rail; his dark brown hair fell over his eyes. He threw in a little lip lick and one eyelid twitched, he kept smiling, pink lips stretched over sharp white teeth.

 _Jesus…_ "Yeah. Get in the car." 

The kid slid in and looked at him expectantly. He looked to be about eighteen—tops. Was probably way younger. Lex had a feeling about this one.

"How much?" Lex asked. 

"Wow—okay, good, no small talk." The boy glanced around the inside of the car. "Fifty. For a blowjob."

"What are you, a theme park ride?" Lex snorted and shook his head before saying, "How about this—I'll give you a thousand. How long would that keep you off the street?"

The kid looked at him, shocked. "What, you want me to like, live with you, or…?" He leaned back against the door, puzzled eyes sweeping over Lex, lingering on his crotch.

"Please. I'm not Richard Gere and you're definitely not Julia Roberts. I want you to stay off the street for a while—maybe even think about your life. If you take this money, though, I will be checking up on you…" Lex held a fat plain white envelope in his leather-clad hand.

The kid nodded frantically. "Okay—okay, yeah, hell yeah." He took the envelope. Stashed it quickly away and looked at Lex. Really looked at him, and this time when he licked his lips, it had none of the practiced moves of a hustler. He nodded toward Lex. "Are you sure you don't want...I could blow you, or we could go somewhere…" The boy reached a hand out and ran it up Lex's leg, stopping only when Lex grabbed him by the wrist, a wrist so thin Lex's fingers had no trouble wrapping around it, pinning it flat. 

The kid had fine, delicate features—almost feminine bone structure, he was really pretty—Lex knew anyone who mistook those looks for weakness would most likely end up with their guts in their hands. Still, Lex figured it was worth a shot—his gut told him, there was something about this one. Intelligence gleamed in those eyes. Maybe the kid would take the opportunity. There was a card printed with a number in the envelope, along with the money…maybe the kid would call. It happened sometimes.

"Get out of the car. Keep off the streets. Pretend _seriously_ that you have brains. And I will be checking, you hear me?"

The kid leaned over, quick as a cat, and kissed Lex, kissed him so well Lex couldn't help but respond, then jumped out the car. "Conner, that's me—I mean Steven—" he said. "Anyway. Thanks."

The scene played out a few more times. Lex ran into kids he'd given money to before, but the money envelope was a one time offer. He never gave it to the same kid twice. He did make some exceptions, sometimes. If they wanted to go home, he paid for it. Kids who wanted to get clean, he helped—but that envelope with the free money was a never-repeated, one-time only deal. 

He drove, staring at them on their corners, and remembered what it was like to think 'this isn't so bad'—and –'I'm the one in control'. He'd been stupid, yeah, but eventually, he'd decided he wanted to live a lot more than he hated his father. 

Years passed, but he never forgot about the kids who were lost.

And when it all got to be too much, when he didn't think he could take another step without _exploding,_ or losing his mind, he came out to the streets again and tried to affect a change in someone's life—the Lex Luthor way. And sometimes a miracle happened. 

Once more around the block, Lex decided, and then it was time to call it a night. Lex wondered if he should stay in the city or go back home.

Home. Lex snorted. Smallville, sure. Home came with a flannel shirt, blue jeans and work boots. Home was hazel eyes and a big puppy smile. Home was innocent, clean and _safe._

He caught a flare of light in an alleyway, and a kid came walking out, stopped and backed up against the wall there. Lex had the feeling he was watching, looking at the car, waiting for Lex to make the move. Lex got out. "Hey."

The kid watched, silent and still, as Lex walked up to him. "Hey, how—"

 _Clark?_ He was struck silent. For a moment his heart flipped and raced and he knew he made some sort of noise, the way the boy looked at him so strangely, ready to bolt. Lex reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Who the hell are you?"

The kid definitely looked scared now, "Get off, you don't know me!" he snarled.

He had dark hair, and green eyes and the same high coloring as Clark: red cheeks, red full lips, the tip of his nose was red from the chill night air.

"What's your name, kid? You can tell me, I won't hurt you."

"A—Allan."

"Ah-Allen…" he smiled at the boy. Sure his name was Allen. He was thinner, nearly the same height as Clark, nearly the same build. "How old are you Ah-Allen?"

"Just _Allen,"_ he muttered, cheeks flaming redder with annoyance. He pulled ineffectually against Lex's grip. "Eighteen."

Lex sighed. No way. Just looking at his body, sure, the kid might pass for eighteen, even older, but one look at those eyes told the real story.

Lex crowded the boy against the wall behind them, grabbed one of his arms and wrapped it around his back; let the kid feel the lump of the gun under his coat.

"Let me ask again. How old are you."

Allen looked shocked, as if he could barely imagine anyone actually threatening another person, and dropped his eyes. "Sixteen." He tried to pull his hand away but Lex held fast.

How much to keep you off the street? "How much," he said aloud. The kid jerked back to reality, green eyes wide and fearful. _Jesus God._ Lex felt exhaustion try to drag him under. 

"Te-twenty…five. For a blow. Job." Allen licked his lips nervously but the glare he leveled at Lex was defiant. 

"Okay. Get in the car." Lex stopped in his tracks, astonished by what his mouth was doing. He was in it now, so, "Let's go," he said and whirled around, the coat hitting the kid in the shins, and stalked back to the car.

Behind the wheel again, he watched. The kid stood frozen on the sidewalk. Shit, from a distance and in that light, he could pass for Clark. That was…that was something Lex was going to try not to think too hard about. He felt a little roil of queasy excitement in the pit of his stomach but he forced it down. The kid still hadn't moved. Lex turned the car on. The kid wasn't coming. Good. And thank God.

He turned the wheel from the curb and suddenly the boy ran up to the car, and shouted into the open window, "Okay! Let me in! Please."

Lex stopped because he was weak. He closed his eyes, dropped his head against the steering wheel and said, "Get in."

They were quiet while Lex drove. He stared straight ahead, but felt the kid's eyes on him. Lex felt a little jolt each time he caught Allen out of the corner of his eyes. He looked so much like Clark, Lex thought. It was thoroughly confusing his dick. That was something else he'd feel bad about—at another time.

The kid finally broke his silence. Trying to sound gruff, he snapped, "Where are we going? I've got people who will miss me, you know."

"No you don't," Lex replied. "No one knows you, you were lucky not to get the shit kicked out of you. You were lucky you weren't on someone's corner, you were lucky _I_ picked you up and not some psycho, who'd beat you and fuck you and cut you into little bite-size pieces."

Allen flushed red from his hairline to his neck, and opened his mouth to speak—nothing came out. _Clark Clark Clark_ Lex's mind ran wild, thinking of Clark in this situation, sitting here like this with a stranger…with him. He breathed out a tiny moan, his dick was painfully pressing against his fly.  
He was sick. Poor Clark, he had such expectations of him, but—Lex laughed bitterly—all he was, was a wolf in disguise, no matter how hard he tried….

And he was tired of trying to live up to Clark's expectations.

They got out in the parking garage of Lex's building, and then took the elevator, then Lex was unlocking the doors to his apartment. The kid hadn't said another word, but his cheeks were red now; he'd gone steadily paler the closer he'd gotten to the reality of what was expected of him—what he expected to do.

Lex took off his coat, hung it and slid off his shoes. He padded into the living area, on into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. The kid was still pressed against the door. "Come on in already," Lex said. "Take your coat off."

The kid jerked, looked at him as if Lex had slapped him. "Oh—okay." He slid off his coat and toed his beat-up sneakers off. He pulled off his socks like a kid, stepping on the toes and pulling his feet back until the sock popped off his foot. He unbuttoned his flannel shirt, and was about to pull his tee-shirt over his head when Lex asked calmly, "What are you doing?" Trying to sound calm while also ignoring his raging hard-on.

"Taking—taking my clothes off. That's what you said…"

"I said take your _coat_ off." Lex said, his face smoothing out, he gave the kid a soft little half smile.

"Oh!" Allen blushed that bright red again. He was embarrassed and Lex found it endearing, and then Allen lifted his eyes, met Lex's—and burst into laughter. "I thought you said _clothes!"_

He laughed and laughed, nerves strung tight with fear driving him to laugh harder, and Lex smiled and waited for Allen to collect himself. When he wound down into weak little chuckles, Lex told him, "No—that does come later," and watched Allen's face freeze again.

"Come on, you're gonna eat something first." Lex beckoned Allen into the kitchen, but Allen shook his head 'no', his lower lip almost stuck out in a pout and Lex growled to himself. He was going to have to kill this stubborn-ass kid or fuck him; Allen was going to make him go insane.

"Come eat something and maybe get a bath or...a shower, something." Lex cursed at himself. He was losing it, inch by inch.

Allen shook his head emphatically. "I just want to get this over with," the kid said and moved to the couch.  
Lex was on him in an instant, pushed him flat on his back on the couch and pressed an arm hard against his throat. "Over with?" he hissed. "You little shit, who the fuck do you think you are? I call the shots; I'm the boss here. Get the fuck on your face, now." 

He smacked the kid, and he yelped, tried to flinch away and cowered under his crossed arms.

"Stop—stop it!" he shouted at Lex, and Lex yanked him around and shoved a knee in the small of his back.  
"This is how it could have gone," he said in a calm and serious voice. "Do you understand me? You have no power in this situation. You have to depend on the john—and that's insane." 

Lex stepped away and let the shaking kid up. Allen kept an arm covering his face, trying to his tears from Lex. Lex turned his back. "Get in the shower and I'll make something for you to eat." 

Allen nodded and coughed to cover a sob. "Where…where?"

"Straight down the hall, on the right," Lex said and walked away.

He was stirring some eggs together, on a plate he had sautéed onions and peppers and little plastic tub of fresh salsa sat on the bar's counter. He poured the mix in a pan on the stove and tossed a few thin slices of ham on top. He was just putting a bottle of milk _Clark…Clark likes milk_ and a glass on the bar when Allen appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a robe.

"I hope you like omelets, because it's one of the few things I can make," Lex said staring at the pan as if it would leap up and run away. "Do you want salsa with it? It's very good; they make it fresh at the market around the corner." He wanted to laugh, he sounded like it was a perfectly normal evening and his companion wasn't a sixteen year old hooker wanna-be. 

Allen stared at Lex and then slid carefully onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Lex turned and looked at him.  
His hair was wet and standing out all over, his eyes looked enormous, his lashes so black and thick they looked lined with kohl. They were still clumped together, wet from the shower. Lex trembled inside.  
Allen looked terrified, but his eyes kept darting to the pan and he swallowed so hard Lex could hear him. Lex broke open a few more eggs, adding to the egg mixture left in the bowl, enough to make another couple of omelets. "Toast?" 

"Oh, yes please," the young man whispered and grimaced as his stomach growled loudly.

"When did you eat last?" Lex asked. 

"Yesterday. The day before…I'm not sure." 

Lex popped bread into a toaster that looked as complicated as a space station and fished in his pocket, tossed Allen a little cell phone. "Call your parents." 

Allen stared at the phone. "I don't have any. I'm a foster kid. And trust me; those assholes don't give a shit." 

He laid the phone on the table and looked up at Lex. "I don't have anyone." He looked defiant again—his default look when he was scared, Lex figured. He moved to the stove, slipped the omelet onto a plate and set it in front of Allen. He poured the remaining mixture in the pan and waited for it to cook.  
Allen hesitated, not long enough to make it look like he was asking permission, not quickly enough to show contempt…the kid was lost. Lex sighed.

This kid was going to die. He wouldn't go home and he wasn't going to make it alone on the street. He was going to need friends and on the street, friends came with a price tag. He was the type to pay with his life. 

 

Lex looked at his watch. Damn it—he needed to stop screwing around. He was going to fuck this kid and dump him. Clark was fucking with his mind sufficiently, thank you. He couldn't afford another damn distraction.

He watched the kid wolf down his food as he sipped a glass of water. Allen kept darting glances at Lex as ate—like he was starving, like he already knew bone deep that nothing came free so best to make the most of it before the bill came. Lex watched him impassively, sipping at his water and drumming his fingertips on the counter top. 

He gave Allen the other omelet when he cleaned his plate, and had a cup of coffee while he watched Allen eat the second one. The kid ladled on spoonfuls and spoonfuls of the salsa when he discovered it tasted good, and drank glass after glass of milk. 

Finally he was finished and his eyes drooped as he wiped his mouth. He yawned deeply and blushed.  
"I'm awake," he stuttered, and stood. "I'm ready." His knuckles were white where they griped the edges of the robe.

Lex smirked. "So am I. Come on."

Allen followed him quietly. Lex stopped him at his bedroom door, and turned him around to face it. "Get on the bed."

The kid walked in, head down like he was about to die. Lex wondered how long it would take him to learn to strut, or slink in like the room belonged to him.

Allen dropped the robe and lay naked on the bed, his hands over his crotch, stiff and straight as a board.

"God," Lex said sarcastically, as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails free. He unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. "I'm not a monster—you don't have to lie there like a virgin sacrifice—" _Oh fuck, no,_ he thought, as Allen blushed from head to toe. He jerked upright and glowered at Lex.

"I'm not a virgin," he yelled. 

"Oh fuck. Yes, you are—get out—no, lie down—no—FUCK! "Lex threw the belt he'd pulled out of his loops across the room. The buckle hit a vase on the dresser and smashed it; Allen jumped and shoved himself back against the pillows stacked on the bed.

"What the fuck is this, some kind of cosmic joke?" Lex shouted at the ceiling. "Well, screw you too!" He focused on Allen and yelled, "And you, roll over, get on your knees!"

Allen blanched, the blush rushing away and leaving his complexion pasty and pale. He got to his knees quickly, awkwardly, no grace to his movements at all. He was like a lump on the bed; head down on his arms, ass in the air, the position opening and displaying him. His ribs heaved and his whole posture screamed, _I don't want to be here._

This was it; this kid was the closest thing to Clark Kent he was ever going to have…the only chance he was ever going to have….

He bent over the boy. "I'm gonna call you Clark—you answer to Clark, understand?" 

The kid's face was tight, his eyes screwed shut and he nodded. He peeked at Lex and asked, "Why?" and gasped "sorry, sorry!" when Lex whipped around and glared at him.

"Shut up and you might learn something." The kid's lips were moving silently over and over and Lex turned away. If that damn kid was praying, he was going to puke. Lex let his clothes drop to floor.  
He glanced down at himself—he was still soft. He didn't even look at Allen. He knew the kid was soft—shit, he was terrified. Lex stroked himself as he moved to get lube and a condom. 

"Lesson number one," he said. "Don't ever bareback. No matter how much they want to pay you," he jabbed Allen sharply in the ribs, " _don't—_ bare—back." He jabbed the boy with each word, and Allen just sobbed and tried not to move.

"Don't ever share needles," Lex said and poured lube, a lot of lube, into his hand.

"I—I don't do drugs," Allen's voice quavered from between his crossed arms.

"Not yet," Lex said, and climbed onto the bed. 

Allen muttered, "God, I hate you," under his breath, Lex laughed when he heard.

"You should," he said, and took Allen's flaccid dick in his slick hand. The kid gasped—nothing but fear in it. Lex stroked slowly, feeling Allen, skimmed his fingertips over the velvety skin, getting to know him, what made him move unintentionally, waiting for Allen to betray what was good for him.

A hard stroke upwards, ending with a twist and his thumb gliding over the tip of his dick, seemed to work for the kid. He started to move his hips a little. He was getting hard, and Lex enjoyed the feel of Allen's dick filling in his hand—getting hotter and heavier, he twitched when Lex moved a little faster and gasped—not so much fear in it this time. Lex smoothed a hand down Allen's back, feeling the smooth shift of muscle there, down his thighs, his calves. Slowly, slowly gently, he loosened his grip on Allen's dick; let him make the first move, a hip thrust he didn't seem to be aware of.

He groaned again and his dick surged fuller, in seconds strands of precome dripped from the tip of his dick. Lex stroked and petted and Allen began seeking harder for sensation, more friction. His hips thrust forward, driving his wet dick into Lex's fist. 

"More?" He asked, stroking Allen's back. "More?" he asked again, and Allen groaned deep and long, like it was being pulled out of him against his will.

"More?" Lex teased, and Allen shouted, "Yes, damn it!"

Lex stroked hard, fast, his fist tight around the kid's dick, and Allen was shouting, coming….

Lex dribbled lube down his cleft then, rubbed over and over the tightly clenched ring of muscle there. Allen whimpered, but didn't speak, and Lex indulged himself. "Clark…" he whispered. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Silence and Lex waited a beat… "Clark…?"

"Ah-oh! Yes… yes," Allen gasped, Lex looked at his face, the boy looked confused, but aroused. Lex shuddered.

"Clark, ask me," Lex groaned, eyes closed and finger slowly smoothly moving in and out of the tight ring, smoothly slipping into the heat, he crooked his finger and touched a firm node inside and Allen jerked wildly, almost falling face down on the bed. 

"Aaah—"

"Prostate." Lex said and rubbed again, Allen gasped and jumped and moaned louder. "Like it… Clark?" Lex asked again. 

"Oh, yes," Allen groaned, "oh yes…"

"Lex. Say it. Lex."

"Lex, Lex, I like it, I like it very much," and Lex slid another finger in, and without coaxing, Allen began moving back, helping Lex to impale him on his fingers. Lex moved fully behind him, fucking him with his fingers and reaching around to jerk him again. His dick slid against the kids thigh, and he pulled his fingers out, lay his dick in the kid's velvety cleft and he began thrusting back and forth, jerking Allen and feeling heady with power, lust—the feeling of having complete control.

"Clark, your dick in my hand, feels so right, want to fuck you, suck you, do everything. Say yes, you want that too. "

"Fuck me please, Lex," Allen groaned. "I want it, want it too."

"Always?"

"Yes!" Allen pushed back hard—Lex slid inside—unexpected but it was good, so good. Allen yelled at the abrupt intrusion, quivering and moaning and frozen is surprise. Lex kept stroking him, rubbing his hand through the sweat that sprang out along Allen's shoulders and spine…and Allen started to move.

"Clark!" Lex gasped, he moved slowly, letting Allen set the pace, when he began moving faster, Lex gripped his hips and fucked him, shallowly at first, letting Allen get used to the burn, letting him begin to want it. He was hard in Lex's hand again. 

Lex groaned. "Shit, I'm not going to last much longer, Clark."

"Yeah, okay—come Lex, come!"

That was all it took, in Lex's mind it was Clark he saw beneath him, broad back shining with sweat, beads running down his ribs, hair wet with it, and trembling, leg and back muscles jumping with the strain, and Lex watched his dick ride in and out of his ass. "Clark-ah—aah!" It was Clark he was coming inside. Slick heat filled his hand, ran over his fingers. Clark— _Allen—_ had come again. 

Lex pulled out carefully and Allen collapsed, spread underneath Lex, panting for breath. Lex sighed deeply, removed the rubber and tossed it. He went to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel and rubbed Allen gently with it, turned him over and cleaned him up. Allen kept his eyes closed, but tears leaked out from under his lids anyway.

Lex shook his shoulder. "Hey, you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Allen shook his head no, but tears ran from under closed eyelids, his lip blushed dark red from being worried in his teeth.

"What," Lex whispered. "You feel—bad for enjoying it? You didn't expect to, did you? You feel like a whore, don't you?"

Allen's eyes opened and tears ran faster, but he was silent. Lex knew the kid was waiting for him to make fun of him. 

Lex shook his head. "You're not. You're young and healthy and it felt good and that was all your body cared about. Don't worry."

Allen closed his eyes again, his entire body slumped and Lex knew it wasn't because he was tired. "Can I sleep?" He tried to get up when Lex said yes, but Lex pushed him back on the bed and got out himself.

"You can stay here. Sleep. Tomorrow is another day, all right?"

Allen nodded, sniffed back tears and curled on his side, keeping wary eyes on Lex until fatigue dragged finally them shut. 

Lex walked back out to the living room and tried to pretend that what he'd done this evening was no big deal.

"I have to go," Allen said after an awkward breakfast the next morning.

"No—you're staying." Lex said firmly.

"What, you're gonna keep me here against my will?" Allen pushed back from the table, setting their cups to rocking.

"That's the trouble with American youth," Lex smirked, "they're educated by the movies they see. No, not against your will. I have a business proposal."

"Oh," Allen replied and blushed deep. His eyes went hard regardless of his brief embarrassment. He glared at Lex, green eyes burning with hate. "Okay, so, I'm—what—your version of meals on wheels?"

"No, Allen I have a plan to present to you, one that if you agree to will help you find the rest of your life."

The kid's eyes were still cold, full of green fire—and then he caved, his eyes dropping to the side, gone dull. He looked back up to Lex, defeat, despair in every line of him. He said, "Adam. My name is Adam."

Clark tapped at the study door and Lex looked up, motioned him in and made a shushing gesture at the same time.

"Dad, unless I have full control and final say on projects, I'm not interested in Star Labs." Lex raised his voice a bit and heard a muffled, little inhalation.

He wheeled his chair away from the desk to face Clark, who was looking concerned. He smiled to show it wasn't important, and went on. "Star Labs is small—insignificant next to Cadmus. Why would I want to be involved in their projects…really? I see. I see." Lex stood and walked around the big presence of Clark. _Concentrate…._

"Well, that does interest me. Pediatric medicine isn't a line I expected you to be involved in—mmm. I imagine it is highly lucrative. Once you get past the FDA. All right. We'll talk tomorrow. I have other business right now. No, nothing that concerns you or LuthorCorp. Until tomorrow, Dad."

Lex turned his full attention on Clark with a smile, the pleasure he felt at seeing Clark still a double-edged sword, even after all this time. Untouchable, desirable, innocent, so very innocent, and so very arousing. He smiled, and knew his eyes weren't hiding anything, and if Clark chose to interpret it as a brotherly feeling, Lex was content to let it be so. 

Clark smiled back. Happy, oblivious to the effect he had on Lex, he walked around the study, picking things up, poking things, face creased in concentration. Lex watched him for a bit, then called down to the kitchen for snacks to be sent up, and Clark spun around to grin at him. No matter how quietly or secretly Lex tried to order food, Clark always seemed to know, he always blushed and smiled. 

Clark seemed to have no idea how significant it was that he had free access to the Castle. Maybe he thought Lex actually allowed other people to paw his belongings. Allowed anyone to insinuate themselves into his private life, Lex mused. Lex came around to lean on the desk, legs crossed comfortably at the ankles. He leaned back on his hands, and let his eyes devour Clark. He was fucking defenseless against Clark.

Clark wandered around the bookshelves, stroking the leather bound spines of the books, and Lex felt a little dash of jealousy. He'd love to be the object of as intense a scrutiny as old Willie Shakespeare was getting—he grinned at himself. Lust made him a fool.

"Lex, I have to write a paper on a Shakespeare play— Shakespearean play—you know." Clark rolled his eyes and waved his hand and Lex thought, _I know?_

"Would you mind helping me? I want to do something different—not the same three plays everyone else always does."

"So, you really need to boost your grade, hunh?"

Clark blushed and smiled, but looked Lex straight in the eye. God, the combination of shy and bold made him hard. He uncrossed his legs, went back behind his desk to sit, and folded his hands over his dick. Smiled at Clark. "What happened, Clark? You're a very smart boy—you should be doing well."

Clark shrugged and grinned wider. "Lana. I'm…" he finally dropped his eyes and Lex sighed in relief. "I guess I spent a little too much time daydreaming and not enough taking notes and…"

"Paying actual attention?" He knew Clark's grades were fair, average. He knew they could be much, much better. He wondered if a tutor would help. He'd look into it. He wanted to ask Clark if he thought he needed a tutor, but the phone rang.

_Hi. It's…_

"It's you. I know," Lex smiled.

 _Caller ID?_ There was a grin in the voice.

"No, I recognize your ring." Lex's voice quieted, he laughed just as quietly, and felt his expression soften and warmth spread from under his ribs, through his body.

_I miss you._

"I miss you too. How are things with you?" He found himself drawing circles on the desk surface with a finger, stopped.

_Fine, fine…how are things in, ah, Smallville?_

Lex laughed softly again, and glanced over at Clark. "Fine. The same…you know."

There was a soft answering chuckle on the other end. _Lex, Lex…_

Clark looked impatient, rather looked like he was trying to cover impatience. He glanced at the phone and at Lex, and Lex had the oddest feeling he was staring at his mouth and it was then Lex realized he'd been smiling non-stop since Adam called. 

_I'm not going to keep you, Lex, I just wanted to check on you, and let you know I'm doing as well as you expect of me this semester. And to beg you to let me come home for the break._

"Home—but you are going home, you've free run of the penthouse—" 

Clark's eyes jerked up from his mouth to his eyes. His expression didn't change but Lex got the impression that now Clark was listening with every pore of his body.

 _Home is where you are, Lex. Please—I want to be where you are._ Adam's voice dropped, became private, intimate, brushing against his ear like a soft mouth. Lex swallowed and his eyelids dropped in reflex.

"I don't know…," Lex stuttered. "I have things here, business here…."

 _I know what the story is. I understand where I am in your life—but does that mean I can't be happy? Please Lex. Please._ Adam's voice was intense now, on the edge of pained and Lex felt the familiar tug at his heart.

Lex sighed. "Yes, come, okay. I—I'll be happy to have you here." He felt his dick stir slightly. 

_Good. Love you. I can't wait to show you how much._ Adam hung up and Lex dropped his phone on the desk. Clark obviously was dying to ask who'd called him, but he didn't. Instead, he spent the rest of the visit regaling Lex with tales of Lana's particular brilliance, her humble humanity, her near perfection. Lex smiled and nodded and ground his teeth—the minute Clark left, he planned to access a particularly juicy porn site and jerk off until he passed out. Lex scolded himself—why must he always turn twelve at the least opportune moment?

Lex got up from his desk and stretched, joints popped and he groaned. He'd been curled over the laptop for hours, working non-stop. He'd had to make up for time he'd lost drinking coffee with Clark at the Talon, listening to tales of woe. Clark's heartbreak, all centered around the wonderful, perfect, amazing Lana.

Sometime, the desire to choke the girl to death was overpowering. But he let Clark talk on, because when he did, he stared right into Lex's eyes and it felt intimate in a different sort of way. Lex had a method for dealing with Clark's recitation of Lana's innumerable sterling qualities. He spent whole conversations on edge, picturing his dick in Clark's mouth. Just looking in Clark's eyes was enough, just a brush of Clark's fingers over his skin was enough….

Lex bit his lip savagely. Fuck, he hated being pathetic and needy. Even though it was exactly what he was. Any time he was breathing the same air as Clark, he was useless and… _pathetic._ He walked over to the fireplace and turned the gas up, put something soothing and non-challenging in the player. 

Music filled the air, and the flames warmed the wall behind him. He made himself a drink, and walked back and forth across the room shaking out his arms, rolling his shoulders. He had no idea so much time had gone by so quickly. He debated calling Clark to ask him how his attempt to ask Lana out had gone.  
The phone rang and he checked the ID. A genuine wave of pleasure warmed him. Adam. 

_Hello, what are you doing and stop working._

Lex laughed, soft and low. "I'm glad you called. Tell me a story?" 

_All right, I'll tell you the story about the prince and the pauper…._

Lex settled back into his chair with his eyes closed and the hint of a smile on his lips.

Lex picked Clark up from school, feeling half distracted as he spoke. Clark even picked up on it, asking him what was wrong. Lex waved him off with assurances that all was fine but…he'd received an odd e-mail that morning, something connected to his investigation of the accident he'd had when he first came to Smallville, when Clark had saved him from death in the river.

Lex had known for some time that he had some rather unusual physical anomalies. He'd healed entirely too fast from the rather dramatic accident—had healed too quickly from so many other…accidents he'd had. For some reason, waking up and seeing Clark's eyes…something in him changed. From that point on, He wasn't content to just accept his condition anymore—he wanted to know _why._ He had questions that needed to be answered, so he did the logical thing, he'd commissioned an investigation into himself. 

The mail he'd received earlier seemed to hint that answers were forthcoming if he'd care to know—answers that were tied to Smallville itself.

"Lex! Where are you, Lex?" and he turned to see Clark staring at him in concern. 

"Clark---sorry, I was just thinking." He was surprised to see he'd driven to the castle and into the drive without realizing it. "I meant to tell you earlier, my ward is coming in to visit for the summer, and he's arriving today. Would you like to meet him?"

"Your ward? You never mentioned a ward before…"

"Adam…no, I haven't."

"Well, sure, I'd like to meet him." Clark sounded a little wary. 

"Great," Lex said and pointed at a helicopter winging away, "Because he's here." The LexCorp logo flashed on the side of the copter as it turned away, back to Metropolis.

Lex roared up into the back of the castle, and parked near the helipad.

Clark peered around. "So, where is the kid? He flew in by himself?"

Lex gave Clark a strange look. "Right there," he said, and he pointed at the tall, slim figure on the landing pad, surrounded by luggage and waving hard.

Clark gaped. "But-but he's my age! How can—I thought—I thought he'd be younger."

"No," Lex laughed, "Adam is about your age, actually. In fact, he's a year older than you."

"Oh." Clark looked at Adam curiously, and then watched Lex as Adam came closer and Lex's smile went—different—as his 'ward' trotted up and carelessly dropped his bags to hug Lex hard. He buried his face in Lex's neck and Lex leaned into him. "I missed you, so much," he told Lex, "so much."

Clark was scowling a little when Adam pulled back, obviously reluctant to let go. Lex hurried to introduce Clark, couldn't help the smile as he did. Adam just…made him smile. "This is my ward, Adam—and Adam, this is my friend, Clark."

Adam looked Clark over slowly from head to toe and smiled. "I've heard a lot about you," he said.

Clark's smile in return was at best, marginally polite. "Yeah? I haven't heard anything about you," he replied.

"No?" Adam turned his head, gave Lex a cool look. He went from smiling at Lex to smirking. "Really, I'd have thought…" 

Lex hurriedly picked up Adam's bags. "Let's go in, shall we—get a cool drink, snacks, something. Clark? Are you coming?"

Clark looked at Adam, and said, "No. I have to do homework. I'll—can I come back tomorrow? If you don't mind."

Lex raised his eyebrows, a little surprised that Clark was turning down snacks. "Well, sure you can."

"All right—I'll walk home—I feel like the walk." Clark sketched a little wave and was gone down the drive.

Lex and Adam watched Clark jog away and Adam shook his head and laughed, his green eyes sparkling like he'd just heard the best joke.

"What?" Lex snapped, a but annoyed that Clark had turned him down—Adam slung an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in, derailing his thoughts.

"Are you sure he's all that straight?" he asked. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Lex said and strode off for the castle, leaving Adam to carry his own damn bags.

After dinner, Lex brought Adam to his study, and sat at his desk while Adam walked around and studied his shelves. Unlike Clark, he didn't touch a thing, just looked, tilted his head to study titles and peered at the small pieces of art laid seemingly carelessly on the shelves.

Lex smiled at him, watching him examine the shelves. "You did really well this semester. Are you happy with your progress?"

Adam nodded. The way his eyes sparkled, the high coloring that looked so much like a sex flush, the coloring that had initially attracted Lex, made him just a little hard. Adam dropped his eyes and smirked, knowing exactly what effect he had on Lex, but he didn't move. He'd stand there all night, Lex knew, he'd stand there until Lex gave him permission to move, and that made Lex _very_ hard. Lex watched that lovely flush spread, watched Adam's dick fill, tent his pants. "Adam." He held his hand out and Adam looked grateful. 

He dropped down between Lex's knees, asking him if he could touch him, and Lex tilted his head back and sighed. "God, yes—I need this like you wouldn't believe—it's been so long." 

Adam shook his head as he stroked the nape of Lex's neck, his shoulders, his mouth, and chided Lex. "I could come home any time you need me, why don't you call?"

"Because," he shuddered as Adams fingers drifted over his chest, tweaked his nipples before drifting downward. "You're not my slave…" he groaned when Adam lifted the hem of his shirt and lightly traced around his navel. Adam unbuttoned Lex's pants, slid his fingers around the waist of gray, silk boxers. Lex moaned quietly and thrust up, so that Adam could slide his pants down, letting expensive, tailored trousers crumble around his ankles and that?—made it even better. His erection bulged against the boxers, and the gray was darker with precome soaking through where the tip strained against the confining silk. Adam rubbed his cheek and mouth over the wet spot, heating the silk even more, rubbing it over the sensitive head and breathing hot air over him. Lex grabbed a handful of hair and yanked him away. 

"You—suck me, God damn it."

"Pushy." Adam snorted, and pulled Lex's dick through the slit in the boxers. He loved the feel of silk against his cheek and Lex's dick in his mouth, and Lex didn't mind indulging him. Adam's mouth was so hot, and wet, and Lex shivered and groaned. It felt so good—why did he deny himself this? Adam sucked, wet and sloppy, saliva running over his chin and hand and he snagged Lex from time to time with his teeth, then whisper little apologies. He gasped and breathed heavily through his nose, lost rhythm and groaned—

Lex cursed, arched away from the chair back, pushed shallow little thrusts into Adam's mouth. "Fuck—oh shit."

Adam pretending he'd never given a blowjob before was a favorite fantasy of Lex's—Adam knew damn well who he was thinking of, and he did it anyway, and that made Lex feel a little guilty and unbelievably hot and grateful…he shuddered and groaned, "Now, now—oh shit—now—" 

Adam let him slide into his throat as Lex came. He shouted and held on to Adam's head, trying not to choke him with his dick, trying not yell out Clark's name…

Lex opened his eyes and Adam was looking up at him, wet red lips curved in a smile, licking the corner of his mouth. His black lashed eyes glittered with wicked enjoyment, and more. His hands went up to caress Lex's thighs, fingers running under the hem of the boxers. "God, I love doing that," he sighed, and laid his head on Lex's leg. Lex smoothed the damp bangs back and nodded. 

"I love it when you do that," he laughed weakly. "Want to go to the bedroom—I can make you feel this good too." 

Adam grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Clark didn't go to see Lex as much as he had before. There was something about Adam being there that made him angry and confused. He admitted to himself that it angered him having to share Lex's attention. It was a brand new experience for him, and an extremely unpleasant one.

Adam, he thought, was obnoxious, sarcastic, but not like Lex. Adam was hurtful. Any time Adam spoke to him, Clark felt he was being laughed at. Lex sometimes made him stop, but too many times, he either didn't notice, or didn't care, and Lex was supposed to notice something like that. Clark realized he was being childishly jealous of Lex and Adam's relationship, and he didn't care. Lex kind of belonged to him, in a way. He had said so himself. From the beginning, he said he didn't want anything in the way of their friendship, so why was he letting Adam get in the way?

Clark tried harder and harder not to show how upset he was and that called for control, keeping a cap on his emotions. He wasn't able to keep that from influencing the rest of his life, it began to affect the relationship he had with his friends, affected his relationship with Lana. Clark hardly wanted to admit to himself that she just didn't seem as interesting as she had, but still he felt awful when he saw how the farther and farther he turned away from her, the sadder it made her.

Still, she kept trying to draw him out. She promised him she didn't begrudge any time he needed to take for himself—she'd be there for him whenever he felt ready to deal with whatever was causing him such pain. She was unbelievably kind and patient, and she was so obviously worried about him, wanted the best for him, but suddenly, it was cloying and irritating and the sight of her face puckered with worry made him mad— _that_ made him feel guilty—whatever he'd been feeling for her was falling apart, but where and why, he had no idea. And most upsetting, he couldn't talk to Lex about it because he was so busy with his new best friend.

It was Saturday, it was in fact the most boring Saturday in all of history, but he was in town because his parents expected it. He even had money for the movies, though who he was going to go with, he had no idea…it was scary, he thought, how quickly a person could be forgotten, even by someone who was supposed to be your best friend.

He scowled in the window at Fordmans, and tried not to think about Pete and his place on the team and _his_ new friends. He sighed. Well, he couldn't really expect everybody to keep chasing after him. You could only refuse phone calls so long before people stopped calling back.

Reflected in the glass, he saw Lex's car headed for the Talon, and miracle of miracles, he seemed to be alone. Clark's heart skipped a beat, and he smiled, struggled not to run at full speed to catch up with him. Maybe Lex was looking for him. Great, he'd have a few minutes alone….

As he watched, the car rolled right past the coffee bar and sped up, and Clark cursed. Lex was probably going to pick up stupid Adam. He stopped, feeling like a fool and then changed his mind—he did follow Lex, faster than any human could have done.

He caught up with Lex again off the alley near the newly vacant feed store. The Porsche rolled to a stop and Lex rolled down his window, called softly, "Hey." Clark nearly answered before he realized Lex wasn't speaking to him. He was staring at something in the alley.

A shadow split off from the dark of the alley, someone sauntered over to the car and leaned into the window.

He could see Lex smile and say, "How much?" 

Clark focused his hearing, he might need to protect Lex, at least that's what he told himself as his heart started to pump uncomfortably harder in his chest….

The tall figure slid up to the car and leaned in the window, his hips swaying as he spoke. His voice was low, a deep husky whisper. "For you, hmmm—ten…twenty…er, five, twenty five for a blow job." It was some guy's voice—Lex was asking some guy for sex. Paid sex? Lex? 

He could hear the smile in his voice when Lex answered, "That much, hunh? Are you any good?"

Clark realized the figure leaning in the car window was Adam. Adam laughed, and answered Lex, "I don't know. I've never done this before."

"Ah-ha. I see. Why don't you get in? I think I can teach you things…I think I can promise you'll like them."

Adam slid into the car, a move so smooth it reminded Clark of oil, then kissed Lex like he was trying to climb down his throat. A minute or two later, the Porsche drove on.

Clark walked into the mouth of the alley Adam had come out of. His head was spinning, he felt light and dizzy, a little sick. Something lodged in his throat and stayed there. Adam and Lex were playing weird sex games—shit. 

_Ward, my fucking ass,_ he growled to himself. No wonder Lex dropped everything and came running for Adam. He'd probably do the same for Clark if he was the one sucking him off. Clark threw himself back against the wall and felt like screaming.

Lex was gay or bi or something—Clark knew he'd had women to the castle—showed up with fancy model girls from time to time, and he knew darn well Lex screwed them. Now the 'assistants', those guys in slick suits and not-mall haircuts, that popped up for a week or two and disappeared made sense—Clark bet Lex was screwing them, too. Like he was screwing Adam. And why was he feeling more cheated on than disgusted? 

Clark shivered, and felt himself stiffen a little at the thought of Lex and his various 'assistants'—what he was feeling was wrong; Clark knew it was, _everyone_ said so. The guys at school, the way they teased certain boys, the girls and the faces they made when guys made gay jokes—the way his dad shook his head and sighed when they talked about gay marriage on TV. It was wrong. But it was _Lex…._

Clark shoved a hand in his pocket and felt how hard he was getting because he was thinking of Lex, and Lex having sex with him, with anybody. He popped the top button of his jeans and shoved his fingers in, and closed his eyes and whispered 'Lex'….

He unbuttoned the next few, and shoved his pants down until his dick popped free and he gripped himself and shivered. Lex would do…what with him? Hold him like this? Look at him…he stared at his hand on his dick, Lex would look, and stroke him, and ask him how it felt…Lex's hand would be smaller, his fingers thinner but strong, he'd do it fast and hard, and grin at him while he did it. Clark jerked harder and harder, his breath came in reedy gasps, and he pictured Lex licking his lips, and pushing his own dick into Clark's thigh and asking him, _'are you going to come yet? Are you ready? Are you going to come in my hand?'_

Clark yelped and trembled and bit down hard on his lower lip. His hips snapped forward and he drove his dick through the tight circle of his fist, snapped his hand up and down, faster than possible for anyone else except him. Come spattered the street, and he caught some of it in his hand, smeared it into his skin. He leaned against the wall, panting and trembling and feeling warm and good and—

And came back to reality with an unpleasant thud. He'd just jerked off in an alley right in the outdoors where anyone could have seen him!

He yanked his pants up so hard he bounced on his feet and zipped his jacket up right to his nose. Now if he could get home without dying of embarrassment—shit—Lex made him do crazy stupid shit. He jogged across the intersection and onto the road out of town. 

When he got home, he was going to have dinner and not go running to the castle to see—God, he needed a shower. An ice cold shower, and if that didn't work, he needed to jerk off again.

Lex looked up in the rear view mirror, at the flashing red light behind him. Damn it. He really didn't feel like dealing with this now. An hour yet before he hit Metropolis, in the middle of no-where, and he was being stopped? He was certain he hadn't been speeding. Fairly certain, he smiled ruefully.

He took his phone out—he'd need to call Dr. Hartnett and let him know that he'd be late for their appointment. Lex felt a little shiver of irritated impatience. He hoped this wouldn't take long. He wanted to get to the city—he wanted to finally begin to learn just who he was.

He shook himself and came back to the moment. He looked up in his rear view mirror again. The cop was getting out of his car. He certainly knew this drill, all too well.

He sighed as he took his license and registration out of the glove box, and waited. The tall dark figure walked up to his car, dressed in Metropolis black instead of the uniform of the highway patrol, and that was a little odd. It was hard to make out a face; the bouncing light of a flashlight playing over the outside of the Porsche threw it in and out of shadows. 

The cop was at his window now, a big, icy-looking blond, pale against the black of the uniform. Lex flashed a smile that hopefully communicated how much the soul of cooperation he was, and rolled his window down.

The big man leaned slightly over to see into the car, flashing the beam into Lex's eyes. "License and…say, aren't you Lex Luthor?"

Lex nodded, and tried to keep the irritation off of his face. He blinked against the sudden flare of light and said, "Yes sir," in the same voice he reserved for snarling dogs and his father. He reached out to the seat next to him. The cop said softly "hey, you—" in such a weirdly intimate, seductive tone, that Lex was startled; he turned back to the cop, and looked into the barrel of a gun. 

His stomach dropped. "Oh." He said. 'Shit.' he thought and a driving punch centered in his throat, he flew back against the restraints—he wanted to scream but his throat wouldn't work, his lungs wouldn't work. A roar like the end of the world filled the car and then blackness crept up on him, so horribly slow. His world narrowed to an ice-blue eye peering at him, watching him die. The blue slowly faded and his last thought was of ocean-green eyes, and a big, warm smile…

Clark dashed into the kitchen and caught the phone on the third ring; sort of hoped it might be Mom and Dad. Not that he minded being alone, he liked it. Kind of.

"Hello, Lex! How's Metropolis? Are you having a good visit—"

"Have you seen Lex?" It was that Adam. Clark felt brief flare of anger. 

_"Hello_ to you too, and no, I haven't. Why?"

"Damn. This isn't like him—he's hours late and he promised me—"

He hung up, leaving Clark staring at the phone. What a rude jerk, he thought. 

Clark walked out of the kitchen and thought about going up to the loft, or going to his room and watching some TV…Adam sure seemed panicked, though. Lex _was_ a super punctual kind of guy…Clark had to admit it was kind of strange. 

He frowned as he replayed the conversation. Promised him…promised him what? Clark made a face and told himself it didn't matter. It was none of his business. Probably some stupid game, some sex…game. He adjusted himself and looked over his shoulder, a little flicker of hot embarrassment making him blush. None of his business at all. . 

He decided to hang out in his bedroom. He was stretched across the bed, wolfing down chips and watching TV when the phone rang again. Maybe this time it was Mom and Dad—or Lex. He glanced at the caller ID—the castle. Lex. Good. He was home. It better be Lex calling.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, and waited for Lex's voice, his chuckle. The line was quiet, and then there was a weird choking noise that couldn't be Lex—

"…Clark…"

"Adam? What's wrong?"

"He's dead. Lex is dead…" Clark heard the phone drop, hit something and then, heavy breathing, and the unmistakable sound of sobs.

The funeral was restricted to Lex and Lionel's closest friends. It was a pitiably small group. Clark stood with his parents, listened to the minister and stared at the rectangle in the ground that was going to swallow up his friend. He heard a constant annoying sound, it battered his eardrums...he looked about the area, trying to find the source—it was Adam. _Adam,_ crying, sobbing like a little girl.

 _Shut up, shut up, *shut up*_ —Clark hated him so much. It was his fault Lex was dead. It was Adam's fault that he knew Lex was dead. If Adam had never said anything, Lex would still be alive. Clark scowled at him, seriously considering burning Adam in his tracks. His hands shook; he wanted to hit Adam so bad. 

Adam looked up and Clark willed him to see how much hate he had for him, wanted to see him hurt, or be afraid, but Adam looked so damn hopeless. So lost, and already hurting so much, Clark was kind of shocked. He didn't really think anyone else could miss Lex as much as he did….

 _Oh, gosh. Adam was in love with Lex._ It hit Clark like a punch. Adam was _'in love'_ in love. He was standing behind Lionel and crying like someone was gouging his heart out. 

Clark felt pulled to his suffering like a moth to flame. He walked slowly over, step by step, aware of each footfall and each breath he took and then he was standing next to Adam, and it was ugly how hard he was mourning. There was nothing pretty or graceful or romantic about it—just awful, drippy, and snotty and he looked like he'd been gutted. 

"Adam." Clark reached out to touch his hand and Adam slapped him away, and gurgled something. Clark reached out again, slowly put his arm around Adam's shoulder, waiting for him to strike out again, but he slumped, leaned against Clark and sobbed harder. 

After the funeral, Adam stood alone with Clark at the graveside. He wasn't sobbing now, but his eyes were still wet, occasionally a tear would spill over. 

Clark said quietly, "It's okay to cry. You loved him. You were in love."

Adam sighed. "I was in love with him. But he was in love with you."

Clark felt his whole body blush. "No—"

"He was. But believe me, he never would have acted on it—your friendship was more important to him than anything else in his life. Don't let it change how you felt about him. He was a good person, a loyal friend."

Clark looked across the cemetery. Lex had loved him. Had wanted him? If he'd said, 'Lex, I know you like me,' Lex would have…Clark had had a chance, but it was gone, burned up on the side of the highway, taken from him in the blink of an eye. Had Lex been driving too fast, driving like a maniac? Clark was horrified to feel a little bubble of laughter rise in his chest—it broke free as a sob. 

The car had burned with Lex inside it, like some horrible parody of a Viking funeral; he'd burned in his beloved Porsche….

Clark felt Adam's hands on him, going from gentle to keeping him from dropping as the world swam. So this was what it felt like to be sick. This is what it's like to want to throw up, he thought. What it's like to want to die.

Clark lay down on the bed and stared out his window, watching the clouds shift color as the sun set. He was thankful to be in bed. All day long, he waited for sleep, longed for sleep so intensely, it was desire. The only time he felt comfortable was in bed, in his dreams. Mornings came and he wanted to cry when he woke—tired already by the thought of having to drag through another awful day.

The picture of Lex he'd taped to his mirror smiled down at him. Mom hadn't said a word when she'd seen it. She'd just cleaned around it, and kissed him on the cheek. She hadn't said a word when other pictures of Lex appeared, taped on the wall next to his dresser, so he could see him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He talked to Lex, just like he always did, asked him advice, told him about little incidents that'd made him smile…and that was a rare occasion anymore. Sometimes in his dreams, they talked and laughed and Lex would advise him—in his dreams, Lex laughed a lot more than he had in life. He seemed more relaxed, even happy. And sometimes, sometimes, they kissed. They touched each other like lovers and he always woke up choked with misery from those dreams. It wasn't fair. He shouldn't ever have to wake from them. He should stay asleep and dream that Lex and he were together forever and forever. Never apart again, because they belonged together.

Clark rolled to his side and a hot tear ran across the bridge of his nose. Why did he have to know this was true after it was impossible? 

Adam called a few times. Once he called to see how he was doing. It had been a short polite conversation. Once he'd called to cry. Literally—all Adam had done was cry, but Clark couldn't bring himself to hang up. He'd sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the wood grain and listening, just breathing. Clark hurt too much to want to share with anyone, but he felt he owed it to Lex to be kind. Adam had cried and then said thank you, and hung up. 

The next time he heard from him, it was to tell him that he had to come to the reading of the will. Lex's will.

Dad stared at him. His eyes were wide and shocked and Clark figured his were the same. They were in the elevator, headed to the lobby, a little shell-shocked group, silent, staring, all of them just—shocked.  
Except Adam. Adam was livid.

"How dare he? How dare he leave all of that...to _me?_ What the hell was he thinking? Bastard." He grit out, and then, "Sorry, that was rude."

Mom assured him she understood, and Dad just kind of carefully patted his shoulder. Clark felt the earth tipping under him again. Why did Lex do that? Lex had left everything, _everything_ to Adam, the money, his properties…everything. 

"At the event of my death, assuming I am unmarried and without children, I name Adam Knight my sole beneficiary." 

Adam had leaped out of his chair, pissed as hell and yelling, Mr. Luthor had yelled some too. Clark shook his head, remembering, and then the kicker—seemed Lex had owned the castle, and for some reason, wanted Clark to have it. Clark still couldn't understand. Neither had his parents, not judging by the way they looked at him and… there was something in those looks, something bordering on…unclean. It made him want to yell at them. It was also a preview, he figured, of what he was going to be going through. If his parents thought the castle was some sort of reward, a thank you for…for…whatever was going through their minds, then what was Smallville in general going to think? 

Right. He was in trouble for sure.

Besides, technically, the castle wasn't his yet, not until he was eighteen. Adam had all of it until then but it was plain to see he didn't want any of it. 

Out of politeness Adam had invited them to the penthouse that now belonged to him, and they'd just as politely declined. Clark watched him get into the limo that, as of this day, belonged to him. The driver, who was now his employee, was quietly deferential as he opened the door for Adam and for some reason, Clark felt horribly bad for the kid. There was one lonely guy, he thought, Lex had probably been all Adam had had.

And as the weeks crawled by, it began to feel like Lex had been all Clark had had too. Everything Clark feared the day the will was read came true. People stared when they saw him, conversation stopped when he walked by. Whispers floated all around him and after the first hundred times, he fought hard not to hear. 

Even Mom and Dad were sucked up into the god-awful gossip. There were times Dad came back from town, red-faced and angry, furious about something some one had tried to imply. "Don't even think about it, son, I'm not," but he was, Clark could see it in his eyes, when Dad thought he wasn't looking, when his parents exchanged a glace. Wondering. Wanting to ask, even after he'd assured them that no, there were nothing to the rumors. He didn't tell them that he was sorry that was the truth. They didn't need to know.  
After a while, Clark just stopped trying to fit in. it was easier and easier to keep to himself. The friends he'd begun to lose, were now gone completely.

Clark walked along the access road between the planted fields, taking the shortcut to school. He'd been just too damn tired to take the bus and deal with a fresh round of 'Clark the fag'. He looked heavenward and frowned, then…grinned, just a little.

 _Yeah. Thanks a lot, buddy._ Clark wished for the thousandth time that Lex hadn't done what he did. What the hell—had he really had no idea what it would look like to leave Clark the castle? 

Clark laughed to himself and crunched along in the dusty gravel, glanced at the endless rows of new corn. Frigging corn everywhere. He was getting tired of every damn thing about life in Smallville—*Small*-ville, that was the trouble. It was too damn small and everyone thought they knew all about everyone else. Maybe if he showed them what he could do, they wouldn't worry so much about who he was or wasn't fucking, if they had to worry whether he'd snap them in half like twigs—or turn them into charcoal—

Clark stopped dead in his tracks, he shuddered all over as a wave of nausea rolled through his gut...he felt sick, horrified at the turn his thoughts had taken. What the hell was he thinking? What in the hell was he thinking?

He turned around and ran home and went straight to his room. He locked his door, leaned against it and stared at the pictures of Lex, feeling sick inside. He couldn't live his life this way—friendless, angry all the time, sad all the time. He needed someone, someone who might understand---

He called Adam.

"What is it, Clark? I'm kind of busy right now."

Clark almost hung up at that moment but waited. "I hoped that…we could talk…because you're the only one who might understand what's happening to me."

"Am I? And just what is that's happening Clark? Are you being hounded by Lex's father and his fucking team of killer lawyers? Are you trying to find the right people to help you run a business you have no idea about? Are you trying to do that and finish school and avoid gossip and gold-diggers and the press and…tell me, what's happening to you, Clark?"

"Nothing," Clark said quietly. "Nothing's happening to me. I'm sorry I bothered you," and he hung up. He ground his palms against his eyes and sighed shakily. That had been stupid. The press had long since lost interest in a big, dumb kid from the sticks, but Adam…well, sure, that was different. He'd been an idiot…the phone rang and he answered it, hesitantly—lately answering the phone hadn't been a pleasant experience. "Hello?"

"Its me. I'm sorry. Would you like to get together for lunch?"

"I—yeah, if it's okay. I guess. Sure."

"Good. Be ready around twelve."

Typical of Adam, he hung up without a good bye. Clark wondered if he was as rude to Lex too—had been as rude, he meant, and the familiar ache tightened his chest. He was glad that Adam had offered lunch, though. He really needed to talk. He didn't bother asking his mom or dad for permission. As long as he finished his chores, he figured what else he did was his business---they didn't believe anything he said anyway, so why bother. They'd probably figure him and Adam were having sex. Clark frowned hard, reaching for anger, so sadness wouldn't swamp him. He didn't give a damn what anyone thought. He had his own life—hell, he owned a damn castle—who could tell him anything? He managed to smile.  
Tomorrow, it would be better. In fact, tomorrow would be the start of a better life, period. This little shit town was about to see a new Clark.

Adam came to pick him up driving the Porsche Cabriolet, one of Lex's favorites. One Clark had never ridden in before.

When he caught sight of the car roaring up the road and turning onto the gravel drive in a way that threw up long plumes of dust, his heart flipped and squeezed and for one senseless moment he knew Lex was alive, that his death was a mistake. The gray top was down, the silvery lavender body gleamed like a beacon in the bright sun, but it was Adam staring at him.

Clark was furious—how dare he drive Lex's car, how could he—he grit his teeth, ad forced himself to relax. Because they weren't Lex's cars, not anymore. They belonged to Adam, now. Everything was Adam's and he might as well get used to it right now.

Adam hopped out of the car, almost as graceful as Lex. He made a face as soon as he saw Clark. "I know, I know, you hate seeing me in his car, but I can't sell them, and I'm not touching more of his money than I have to. And…and besides, it makes me feel as if—he's still here, somehow."

Clark found himself truly relaxing…Adam was right, and there was some truth to what he'd said. They climbed in the car, and Adam drove like—a maniac—into the next town. They found a decent little diner, and stopped.

They said nothing to each other until the food had been ordered, and then Adam spoke. 

"Everyone's treating you like you're some kind of whore, aren't they?"

Clark blinked. Wow. Blunt, rude, but…he blushed and nodded. "Even my parents," he said, bitterness making his voice rough.

Adam laughed harshly. "Yeah. Me too—though it isn't as bad for me, because I really am a whore."

Clark gaped at him. "What?"

"Lex called me his ward, but basically whore fit the bill. He gets so mad— _used_ to get so mad when I said it---and really? I was the world's crappiest whore anyway." He bit off another harsh cough of a laugh.

Clark stared at him. "Lex did those things for you because of sex?" Clark felt his world shrinking, darkening….

Adam went on, not noticing Clark's distress. "No—no, not really. Well, not at all, I guess. He tried to save me. That's what it was. He picked me up, he fucked me, he fed me and then instead of kicking me back out on the street, he gave me a whole new life." He looked down into his plate, his eyes swimming. "God, he was like a mother, father, a brother and lover wrapped up in one."

Clark was almost sick with jealousy. He didn't want to know about Adam, and Lex. But on the other hand, what Adam knew was all he'd have of Lex, so he just nodded and tried to look encouraging. 

Lunch turned out to be kind of nice, and Adam wasn't quite as enormous a dick as he'd imagined him to be. They didn't talk much about Lex after Adam's…confession. They ate, and talked about school, and Clark's life on the farm. Everything but Lex, and what Adam did for him.

When Adam took him home, they made plans to lunch again soon. Clark watched the car drive off and went into the house. He ignored his mom and dad standing in the kitchen…waiting for him, he guessed. Clark went past them, up the stairs and they never said a word to him.

Days passed slowly unless he spent them with Adam. Whenever Adam had free time, Clark would meet up him: at the castle, at the diner they first had lunch at, in Metropolis---a few times Adam picked him up from school. His parents let him go without question. They watched him leave and watched him come home and the look in their eyes was…fear. Clark wasn't sure if they were afraid for him or of him and he didn't want to know. He left his parents behind, and went on with his new life.

"What was it like for you and Lex?"

_What do you mean?_

Clark shifted the phone to his other hand and stretched out on his bed. He had the door closed, locked and the player turned up to mask the sound of his parents moving around downstairs—he wanted to feel private, alone with someone who liked him. He went on, "I mean, you said some stuff before…about how he found you and…"

_Oh, you want to know about that._

He was quiet and Clark was afraid he'd overstepped. "Hey, I'm sorry; it's none of my business."

_No, no, I'm just trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like a Lifetime Movie…I ran away from home, a foster home. The people there…didn't care much. They got paid to warehouse us, not to love us, I guess. Long story short, I ended up on the street. It was not a good choice._

He stopped and Clark waited. Adam's voice was dry and emotionless, but Clark felt for him. He wondered if locking feelings up like that was something Adam had learned from Lex. He'd watched Lex do the very same thing when talking to his dad. He'd thought it was eerie when Lex had done it, and it was doubly eerie to hear Adam do it.

_So, after a while, I got really hungry. And tired. Too scared to sleep well, too cold, too hungry—too a lot of things. And I began to think maybe there was an easier way—_

"Easier?"

_I was fifteen. I was stupid. So, my first night out, I'm lurking in an alley, too scared to chance the corner, where I might possibly have actually been seen, and this car pulls up, this shiny, sexy, black Porsche, screaming money…anyway, it was Lex. Damn lucky it wasn't some…nut. Lex Luthor. He was my first…everything._

Clark felt a little black shiver go through him… _"He was my first…everything."_

"You were a virgin? Nobody…I thought maybe you ran away because…you know."

_Oh. No, nothing so awful. They never ever did, nobody did—I left because it was like I said, they didn't care._

"Yeah," Clark said darkly. "I know how that is."

Adam laughed bitterly and he sounded more like the Adam he'd first met. _No you don't. You locking your parents out of your life and—and not existing for them at all, is a world of difference_

Clark doubted that. Besides, he wasn't pushing them out of his life—they weren't trying to stay in it. He tried to change the subject. "So, Lex found you, and what happened next?"

_What happened next was that he scared the living shit out of me, and then fucked me stupid._

Clark was startled. That's not how he pictured the two starting out. He'd seen it as…romantic, like that old movie. "He hurt you?"

_Yes. No. Both, kind of. It doesn't matter how it started. He's…he became everything to me. He helped me. In so many ways…_

Clark doubted that it didn't matter, he was having a hard time reconciling the image of Lex in his head with what Adam knew…"So, he—he sent you away to school?"

_Good for the both of us. He knew I needed distance to grow. He was smart about people. I got to be very smart about him._

Clark could hear the smile in his voice, as Adam went on. _First, it was kind of a business deal, and it did give me direction in my life. And after a while, I guess I fell in love…even though he was already taken. He…_

Clark waited but Adam was silent. When he did continue, his voice was a little shaky. _He never made a secret of his love for you, his wishing that you were able to love him back._

Clark closed his eyes and moved to curl on his side.

Adam went on, his voice strong again. _I used to call him. I liked calling him, reminding him that I was there, that I was his…_

"Me too, I miss it a lot, talking about things with him. A whole lot."

_Not...that way. Clark._

Adam sounded amused, and kind of had that infuriating tone in his voice that made Clark feel stupid. "What?" he snapped.

_Different kind of talking, buddy…_

"Oh. Oh! You mean bad—um—racy. Um. Oh gosh…"

_Phone sex Clark. Have you ever heard of it?_

"Of course!" Clark squirmed uncomfortably on the bed. Just the thought of Lex on the phone, talking… "Like what? What did he say?" he hated that his voice sounded shaky, he felt himself flush in embarrassment.

_Lex? Lex listened. I told *him*—things._

Clark's voice dropped lower. "Oh, I see." He wanted to hang up and think about that, maybe in the bathroom, or pull the covers over his head and think about it. Very hard.

 _Clark? Are you…curious? Because it seems like you are…do you want to know? What we talked about?_

Adam's voice curled around his ear and worked its way down the back of his neck, he felt warm and a little silly but also kind of, kind of… "Unh. Yeah—yes."

_Are you sure Clark? You have to be very sure._

"I am. I want to know. I can have that much at least."

_Oh—Clark. I—all right. I'm going to call you Lex. Can…I want you to talk to me like you're Lex okay? I'm calling you from school, because I'm dying to hear your voice. I need to hear it. How was your day, *Lex?*_

Clark shivered, moved so that he was flat on his back, and tried to think like Lex. He almost laughed. That was…impossible. "Oh. Ah—long. Long day. Boring. And ah," he thought, "—my dad. You know." Because he'd watched Lex's face when he talked about his dad. 

Deep, silky, warm…Adam's voice stroked him. _Um. I know. You need to relax. Let me help you._

"How—I mean. Okay, yes, relax." His heart was pounding and he was starting to get hard.

_You're in that big black leather chair at your desk, aren't you? You're facing the windows; the light is low—sun's setting_

Clark nodded and remembered, "Yes. I—I'm there."

_Close your eyes, tilt your head back. What are you wearing?_

"Unh," Clark opened his eyes, looked down at flannel and denim, his cock outlined against the fabric. "I'm wearing a flannel shirt and…."

_No, you're not, try again._

Clark frowned at the distinct tone of amusement in Adam's voice. "Unh, ah…a shirt, um, maroon, and black pants, a suit."

_Unbutton your shirt._

Clark grabbed for the buttons on his flannel shirt, and began to pop them open. 

_I'm standing next to you, and I reach for your shirt. Unbutton it…ummm. Touch your self, that's my hand on your chest, rubbing your nipples. Feel it?_

"Unh-hunh." Clark rubbed lightly, feeling vaguely foolish, wondering if Adam was laughing at him the whole time.

_Pinch. I'm pinching you hard, like you like it, now I'm leaning over and sucking your nipples, biting, just like you want it—just like it makes you groan, get hard. You like it when I'm rough there._

Clark gasped and pinched himself hard, picturing Lex arching into his touch. He liked being bitten? Lex liked this? He pinched himself again, hard as he could, and his cock twitched…"Yeah…"

_Undo your pants. I'm under the desk now; you're watching me, through the glass top. Your knees are spread…_

Clark swallowed, undid his pants, pulled his legs up and slipped his pants down to his thighs. He spread his knees as far as possible.

_I'm pulling the zipper down, slow, tooth by tooth, touching you, I'm kissing your dick, through the cloth…feel it?_

"Oh, oh yeah…" Clark wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed himself. 

_Lex, do you want me to suck you?_

"I—God, yeah…"

_Want me to lick you, taste you, pull you into my mouth, swallow you down 'til your dick's in my throat?_

Clark whined and bucked into his fist—he felt wild, reckless, he was about to come. He needed to come. "Oh, I want that—"

_I can't_

Clark stopped. " Hunh? Why not?"

_Because you have to tell me. Give me permission, you know that._

Clark pictured Lex looking at Adam's flushed face, his wet, panting mouth, green eyes staring at him through the glass top, Adam between Lex's spread legs, mouth hovering over his dick, licking…licking his lips…waiting, waiting…"Suck me, _now,"_ he growled, speeding up the stroke, harder, faster. 

Adam groaned, a long quivering sound that skewered Clark, sent shock after shock through his gut, his cock…Clark let his voice drop lower, and tried to put everything he ever imagined about Lex into it. "Jerk yourself, but don't come until I tell you to."

 _Fuck!_ He heard Adam's helpless cry, he could hear the liquid sound of Adam jerking himself off, and he quivered. His back, his ass—every muscle tightened, he arched off the bed when Adam breathed out, _Lex, Lex please, I have to—let me—_

The feeling started low in his gut and spread, heat coiling outwards, coursing through his body, the bed shook and he jerked, his shoulders curled up from the bed. "Uh—come, come!"

Come shot up and spattered against his chest, his belly, his hand slipped in the warm fluid and distantly he heard himself moan, heard a faint moaning in his ear. 

_God, oh—oh fuck…_

Clark dropped back to the bed, drained, panting…. "Wow." He heard a chuckle and blushed. "I said that out loud?"

_Um-hm. I have to agree. 'Wow'. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Hey…you're okay?_

Clark laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess I am. Good night…um, thanks?" 

Adam laughed too, and hung up.

Clark wiped himself, thinking about Lex, about Adam and Lex. Adam had really been in love with Lex, but he insisted over and over that Lex had loved Clark, wanted to be with Clark…how sad, he thought. Did it hurt Adam to call Clark Lex, to remember….

Clark worried at the thought, but finally let it slide away. He was exhausted, warm and relaxed, something he could barely recall feeling. Maybe for once, he'd be able to sleep the whole night through.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are what some might consider to be graphic depictions of rape and torture in this chapter.

Adam called him from Metropolis a few days later, made a time to meet for their lunch date. Clark thought about waiting for school to end. If he skipped again, he'd be on suspension…he decided he just didn't give a shit. He left school, walked out the door, and ran to the city.

He made it in less than ten minutes, a personal best.

Adam looked up and jumped—"holy fuck—I just called you—what the fuck are you doing here?"

He looked angry, but Clark grinned. He wasn't fooled; he was getting to know what Adam's various frowns and scowls meant. He moved around the big leather couch Adam was sprawled on and smiled down at the older boy. He was getting to be an expert in 'Adam', probably only Lex knew—had known Adam--as well. 

Adam frowned as he looked up at Clark. "What? What's so funny?" He tried to shut the laptop quickly as Clark came close. 

"Homework—or porn, you freak?" Clark grabbed the screen and yanked it around to face him, and found himself looking at a slideshow featuring Lex Luthor. Picture after picture of smiling Lex, growling Lex, Lex relaxed and elegant in a suit, Lex at a lakeside somewhere that was obviously not the United States, Lex in a cabin… Lex looking odd in jeans and a flannel shirt, obviously a little tipsy and sad even though he was smiling, at an amusement park eating a hotdog with a bemused expression…Lex naked, exposed, unembarrassed…Clark glanced at Adam, who was blushing and scowling. He glanced at Clark, his eyes red and glazed. Clark marveled at how easily he cried. Adam was so tough, so—so _not_ soft and yet.

He looked back at the screen. God, some of the pictures of Lex were making him…a little hard. He almost turned away again, but the picture showing now was of Lex, nude, in bed and sleeping—just sleeping. He looked like a little kid, so sweet, so small, needing to be protected. Adam touched his arm and said, "I'm not sure if you want to hear this—or need to hear it—but I'm sorry." 

Clark knew what Adam meant. "Don't be, he needed someone. I'm glad it was you."

Adam moved over and Clark sat next to him, and they ran through the pictures again. "Did Lex talk about me?" he asked, and Adam sighed. 

"Yes, he talked about you. He talked about you a lot. He…he was kind of obsessed with you, I guess." He shrugged, looked at Clark and the corners of his mouth quirked up. "I'm beginning to get it." 

Clark blushed and stood, walked over the far wall. He looked out over the city; lights were beginning to flicker on here and there. "You know, Lex wanted something from me I thought I couldn't give him. I was wrong." He turned to Adam. "I can't give it to him, but I can give it to you."

Adam looked at him quizzically. "Clark? What's going on…"

Clark sat with Adam again, and took his hand. "I don't have anyone else in the world but you, and I need you to know this. I'm not normal. Not like you or Lex, or…anyone."

Adam smiled, his head tilted to catch Clark's eyes. "Clark, buddy…everyone feels like that. You start to grow out of it by the time you hit nineteen, trust me—fuck!"

He jumped back as Clark reappeared at the windows—and then at the door—and then in front of him. "Mother fuck! How are you doing that?" he yelled.

Clark said, "Watch." He stared at Adam, and Adam saw, without any doubt, that Clark's eyes turned yellow, and then swirled, and flashed red. Clark turned his head, and Adam swore he saw a shimmer in the air, like the air over hot blacktop, and a few papers on Lex glass desk burst into flame and to ash.

"Shit! Did you do that?"

Clark nodded. "I'm an alien." He waited, ready to…to bolt, to collapse. Whatever.

Adam stared at him. "This has to do with that thing that bugged Lex all the time. He…he thought he was different, too…but you're really," he swallowed hard. "You're really not human? What—why are you here?"

Clark shook his head. "I don't know. I came here as baby. My parents, my biological parents, sent me here and I don't know why. I do know that the day I fell to earth, meteorites fell too—they smashed things and killed people, and kept on hurting people long after. They changed people, and I guess they must have changed Lex too, if that's what he's thinking."

Adam stared coldly at Clark, his mouth working. "He. He was going to Metropolis to talk to someone about it—about the changes taking place in his body. I think he was scared. I think he thought that they might become, I don't know, dangerous—that _he_ might become dangerous." He drew away from Clark. "He was afraid—because of _you…"_

Clark felt sick, horrified. He'd damaged Lex. His coming had changed him, hurt him, and Lex died trying to get answer and it was all his fault. Clark gasped. It was his fault Lex died. Adam was staring at him, eyes full of hate, and Clark couldn't stand it—he ran.

Lex woke up to a splitting headache. The pain was overpowering, nauseating, throbbed in his eyes, his nose, made his eye sockets ache. Any movement made his stomach rebel, lurching into his throat. He opened his eyes, slowly as he could, hoping his stomach wouldn't notice. He found himself staring at a beige ceiling, looked down to find beige walls and on to beige tiled floor. He looked to one wall, broken by a door and a large mirror…no, one-way glass. The other walls were solid, and bare. He could hear steady beeping, a sound like a muted alarm and then, the door opened.

He looked up to see Dr. Hartnett, the man he'd arranged to see in Metropolis, standing in the open doorway with a group of frightened looking assistants in a circle around him and behind them, Lex could see a large man dressed in what looked vaguely like a MetPD uniform. Hartnett glanced down on him with the expression of a man looking at a lab rat.

"As you can see, he's almost completely recovered from the effects of the tranquilizer darts. The amount of tranquilizer used was three times normal. He's quickly recovering also from abrasions and contusions—even drugged, he was rather difficult to subdue. What is most interesting about this particular subject is that he is the only one of our test subjects to show true rapid healing. Other subjects have been able to function despite physical trauma, or illness, but no individuals have exhibited actual healing—before this one." The group of young men and women around Hartnett took notes and murmured to each other. They looked fresh faced—wide eyed and innocent, and Lex knew that meant not a damn thing.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," he shouted and lunged at the closest person. Discovered he was strapped to the table he was laying on. He instantly stiffened—it reminded him of a horrible—and thankfully damn short—period he'd spent in a mental hospital, when Dad had somehow come to the conclusion that his youthful rebellion was actually a mental disorder. Luckily none of his doctors had come to the same conclusion and he was out before any remedy had been applied—but he remembered being with people who truly belonged there, and pathetic souls who had no business being in there, any more than he'd had. It had been the most frightening few weeks of his life and it had certainly been one of the factors that led to a change in his lifestyle—

He dropped back against the table, stomach clenching and his heart pounding. All right. He had no doubt that his dad was involved, probably the author of this setup. He better cooperate with them if he expected to get free. He looked over the group around him, trying to get some clue as to what was happening, and how to approach them. Dr. Hartnett watched with interest as Lex settled back and was still.

"All right, fine. Now—we know that the subject is capable of rapid healing, and that's something we intend to explore fully and hopefully apply to our research. And, as we hope, to the Cadmus Research project. In the past, the most common method of producing the super-soldier had been a combination of various psychotropics and inhibitors, and some surgery," he shrugged, and went on, "but we're out to produce a non-chemical change, a genetic change. The K-SV subjects have shown many promising results. Once we learn to direct the applications to produce results we want, I believe we can satisfy our patron."  
Lex listened in stupefied horror. What the fuck was Dad up to? Cadmus? Hartnett wasn't associated with Cadmus—he'd be a damn fool to contact anyone in Dad's organization.

Dr. Hartnett stepped up to the table, and still in lecture mode, described what he was doing as he took a thin blade from a tray set up next to the table. "This is the ability that we're hoping to implant in our future soldiers. Watch carefully." He sliced a thin red line down Lex's arm, ignoring Lex's startled shout of pain and outrage. "The incision will begin to close in a minute, in ten, it will look a few hours old, and by tomorrow, I'm certain that it will be fully healed—undetectable."

The little crowd broke out in murmurs and jockeyed around each other to get a better view of the miracle in the making. Lex ground his teeth. This ability was one of the things he'd hinted at in his correspondence with Hartnett—that and where he believed the ability sprang from—God damn it. He'd fucking done this to himself. He wondered just who it was that was funding a super-soldier project at Cadmus. It just didn't sound like something Dad would be involved in—there didn't seem to be the kind of profit there that could be made in the private sector.

Hartnett was still droning on. "Our plan is to see if the healing can be enhanced—we'd like to see something like that," he indicated Lex's arm, "heal in minutes instead of hours. We've worked with some subjects, experimented to see if the original mutagen can enhance mutations or perhaps give rise to new, useful mutations. Mental instability, however, seems to be a problem associated with the mutations, brought on or exacerbated by the mutagen. This particular subject seems to have escaped that side-effect—" He smiled to alert his crew he was about to be amusing, "At least as far as we can tell." 

Dutiful chuckles swept the room, and they walked out at Dr. Hartnett's direction.

The man dressed in the vaguely military uniform waited a beat until the others cleared the doorway, leaned over Lex and whispered, "You cooperate with us fully and I'll see that you're treated as well as possible. If you don't cooperate, we'll destroy you, and start with someone new. It's up to you."

A hot dry palm stroked over the red line on his arm and Lex tried to jerk away. The hand closed possessively around his bicep, and a finger prodded the muscle.

"The skin _is_ closed. Fascinating. I wonder how deep I can go before it stops healing?"

Lex froze in the straps. Shit, shit…he recognized the look in that one's eyes. He'd seen it before in the eyes of some of the johns on the street. Lex knew damn well how long it took to heal from a deep cut—say one like a gash from a broken bottle. Fuck, fuck…he was going to hurt in this place, and hurt bad. Fine—he was prepared, eventually, he'd be missed, he'd get out. Someone would come looking for him….

Lex was gasping for breath still, a half hour since they brought him back from the lab. His wrists and ankles were raw, his neck laced with purple and red blotches. He rubbed lightly at his throat and swallowed carefully. Okay, what he'd done was stupid, all the damage to his throat was his doing, but fuck—he hadn't been able to lay still when they'd begun injecting that shit into the cuts over his ribs…it'd hurt beyond belief. He couldn't understand why he needed to be conscious when they did that…at least they didn't gag him this time.

His skin shivered and pimpled at the memory of one of the previous session when they had gagged him. That time still replayed in his dreams. He looked at the crisscross of raw flesh over his ribs. The skin looked to be…glowing…a faint green. Fuck, he really must be losing his mind. It had to be the crappy light in the cell.

Lex leaned carefully back on the narrow cot. He felt like shit and probably looked like shit and he could still taste bile in his mouth, feel it raw in his throat when he tried to swallow—research, fuck. This was pointless torture. 

He rubbed his eyes and moaned low, under his breath. The light was dimmed now, enough not to reflect from the tile walls and floor and he was counting that as a blessing. He wondered what time of day it was. He wondered what _day_ it was. No one spoke to him, except to say get on the table, get off the table, open, close. No one treated him kindly. No one treated him especially badly, outside the procedures. 

Hell, no one _cared._

The hospital scrubs he wore were stiff, the fabric scraped at his tender skin, the pants exposed his black and blue ankles and the shirt exposed his raw wrists. They were so thin, pale…he remembered a time spent laying on a beach that stretched for miles, all blue sky and white streamers of clouds and pink sand, an ocean so green, greener than Clark's eyes. Remembered being naked and heated by the sun, turning pink and tan, and being so annoyed by the freckles marching across his shoulders, his cheeks….

Lex snorted, back in the here and now. Now he was cold all the time, his skin was the color of milk, when it wasn't faintly green. He looked down at his bony ankles and narrow, bare feet protruding from the cuffs of the scrubs bottoms, and fuck, for just one moment, he was going to take the luxury of feeling pretty fucking sorry for himself. He was going to die in a horrible, little, sterile cell, dressed like a mental patient. They were going to flay him alive, chop him up in bits and try to make the pieces live and what the fuck did they care if his sanity survived all this shit or not?

A small sob leaked out before he bit down hard and clenched his jaw. He rubbed his face dry, and laid down flat on the cot. 

He had to be patient, he had to wait. Some one would come for him. After a while, someone would know he was missing and come. 

_'Be elsewhere, think of other things…'_ He thought about sun, and scotch, and chocolate, he thought about Clark, and wind and autumn, Clark and kisses and blushes. He thought about Adam, and music and rain, how damn good warm rain felt dripping into his collar, and wool carpet soft and warm against his feet. He closed his eyes, crossed his arms behind his head and hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.

They brought him back to the cell and dumped him on the floor. He was naked, sweating. In moments he'd leached all the chill from the tile and was burning up again, slipping in a pool of his own sweat. He was going to die. He was dizzy, sick. Muscles jumped and knotted so hard, it felt like they were either going to tear lose from, or break his bones. His mind tried to creep back to today's session, to make some sense of what had happened to his body, but again and again veered wildly away…didn't matter, didn't matter—he was going to walk out of here on his own two feet, head up like a motherfucking man, damn it—Lex refused to think otherwise.

Thick saliva dripped steadily onto his wrist as he as tried to watch the thick green line under his skin move; he had no control over his mouth, his eyes. The lids fluttered open and shut, his eyes rolled and drifted when he tried to concentrate…what was he supposed to be doing?

Whatever they'd pumped him with today was moving through his veins like peanut butter. He was afraid that if it reached his heart it'd kill him. He tried to get to his feet—he had to walk or he'd die, he knew it—

Lex fell face forward onto the tiles, arms crumbled under him and some distant part of his mind was trying to tell him it hurt. Unable to move, to close his eyes or his mouth, his lips were open against the tiles and drool spread under his cheek in a rank puddle. Tears flowed as his body fought against his eyes drying out.  
The click of the cell door opening managed to penetrate his daze….

_"He's ready…"_

…was on his back, ceiling lights flashing by, dark, light, dark, light. His wrists were strapped flat…dark again, and light and pain, and pain and his eyes closed—a bolt of pain as intense as lightning, as deep as the night threw him into darkness.

He was sitting slumped over on a shower floor, dripping wet, steam filled the air and he was _oh god…_ a little warmer than usual. Hot water was a luxury and he'd missed it. A hated flood of emotion threatened to overcome his control, but he won against it, forced it under again. A silent young man stood outside the door, holding a robe and apparently waiting for Lex to notice him. He said nothing when Lex came towards him, just as silently helped him into the robe and back to his cell.

Lex was practically dizzy with excitement. This was someone he'd never seen before, this was something new, and he was starved for something new. Everyday, the same tiles, the same people, the same the same the same…he was dying to talk to this new person, to ask him questions—maybe this man knew why he hurt so terribly. 

"Wha…happe…" His voice was rusty, as if he hadn't spoken in a long, long time, but he knew that impossible. He was fairly certain he'd spent the morning screaming his lungs out, but oddly, his throat didn't hurt.

The man looked at him with all the interest of a human in the company of an ant. He nudged Lex forward into the cell. 

As Lex cleared the threshold, the man broke his silence. "Wait," he said, and Lex held his breath—he went on to say, "The robe." 

He took it from Lex and left. 

Lex sat on the cot and stared at—nothing.

He woke up to find Uniform Man sitting on the end of his cot. He looked Lex up and down and frowned. "Why isn't it working?"

Lex raised an eyebrow and kept quiet. 

"Why won't the healing ability transfer—what are we doing wrong? What is your body holding back from us?"

Lex shivered. Oh God, this was bad. If Psychofuck thought he could get more out of him, it meant the bad days were about to get worse, whatever in hell that meant. Hartnett was more than happy to do what Uniform Man wanted—Lex simply wasn't real to him. He noticed that any one of the techs that looked even slightly uncomfortable soon disappeared. The techs that remained were efficient, business-like, and completely unemotional—it was just a job, nothing personal—but when someone was taking samples of your organs sans benefit of anesthetics, it didn't matter a fucking bit if they got off on it or not. It hurt like a motherfucker either way. What new thing could they do to him they haven't tried yet? 

Lex knew changes had taken place inside him since he'd been taken, not that they discussed results with him. But he knew how much faster he was healing--it was almost frightening how very fast it happened. Several times, he'd even grown hair…it fell out each time, but it was weird and unsettling to see the red wisps appear on his body, and slowly die away again—sometimes it made him sad.

Uniform Man grabbed his leg, slid his hand up until the knuckles nudged his sac. He rubbed briefly before digging his fingers into Lex's hip, squeezed, hard, hard enough to make Lex cry out. 

"You're not here with me. What are you thinking about, Alexander? Rescue? A favorite meal? Home…or sex?" He cupped Lex as he spoke, voice pitched low, Lex assumed so it wouldn't record. "Talk to me, I'm curious. What do you think about when you're not bleeding in the lab?" He grinned down into Lex's face, his ice blue eyes feeling hot on Lex's skin, making his stomach crawl. Making him remember mistakes in alleys, in parked locked cars….

"Talk to you? Fine--when can I go home?" Lex asked and grinned, he could feel the edge of wildness in it, and for a moment felt like he was flying—what the fuck. He had nothing to lose. "And I've been watching you and I'd like to know—why are you such an asshole?"

Uniform laughed brightly, and something shifted in his eyes, rolled to the surface like oil, like something dead. Lex lunged to the side of the cot, trying to duck, but a second too late. The man's fist caught him on the side of his head.

The pain was staggering, stars burst bright white and blue in his sight, he felt as if a knife had been driven between his eyes. _Fuck!_ It shouldn't hurt this bad, Lex thought—something was wrong.

Uniform hit him again and weirdly, the pain decreased, so much that he gasped with the sudden relief. 

"I've dealt with assholes like you before," Lex panted. "I'm not going to beg you not to." He felt a lot less confident and brave than he sounded, and he was just grateful that he hadn't cried with the pain. He desperately held on to that edge— _don't surrender,_ he begged himself.

"I don't give a damn if you beg. My personal preferences don't take precedence here." He leaned over Lex and said, "If they did, I'd have skinned you alive and fucked what was left a long time ago." He grinned, and said, "Get ready—they're coming for you."

Screaming.

There was entirely too much screaming in this nightmare. 

It was becoming pointless, excessive. The air smelled, the room was too, too bright. This was a seriously screwed nightmare, lacking in decent choreography and the soundtrack left much to be desired. The annoying whir of the bone saw, the clatter of metal utensils against metal tray, the hiss of an air hose and the steady drip, drip of water or something thicker kept him on edge. The screaming needed to stop. He tried to get someone's attention, tried to get them to close the door on the screams. But it was a damn nightmare, and no one heard him, and no one saw him. He wanted to close his mouth but something kept it open. 

This was a screwed nightmare. There was entirely too much screaming in this nightmare. 

Screaming.

Lex tried to sip up the thin porridge they'd brought him on the mess hall style tray. It was difficult; his mouth hurt so much, his tongue felt stiff. He tried to work his utensils carefully because the sound of his metal spoon hitting the metal tray nearly crushed him under a feeling of horrible fear and dread; he flinched at every tiny click.

Whenever his tongue touched the coppery tasting holes in his gums he shivered and moaned. Something very bad had happened to him….

He couldn't remember sleeping. He couldn't remember waking, or bathing, or seeing anyone in…forever. He couldn't stop touching the little white knots on his gums. Some teeth had erupted and his gums were sore and tender and he couldn't remember if it was supposed to be like that. He looked down at the watery gray paste congealing in the shallow depression on the tray. The lumpy twist of bright white material wrapped around his hand made it difficult to hold the spoon, he was favoring the hand because…because….

He slammed the spoon down and screamed at the top of his lungs. "What the fuck is going on? What is happening to me?" He threw the tray to the floor and screamed "You can't do this to me—I'm—I'm—"

The floor tilted at him and the tiled walls rippled. Who the fuck _was_ he? He dropped to his knees as a skull-splitting spear of pain shattered what thoughts he had. The last clear word he yelled was "Clark!" 

He screamed it as loud as he could.

"Is that what you've been looking for?" The man in uniform looked over Hartnett's assistant's shoulder. He traced a spike on the screen the scientists were watching carefully, making notes. "What is that?"

Hartnett looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure, but I've seen it before in other subjects. They produce it in times of great stress. We think it may be a signal that some mutation is taking place. It's been observed that quick changes can occur with sufficient, ah, prompting. Occasionally, that spike appears and no change is observed. Either nothing happens, or it's something so subtle that we're unable to detect it."

He nodded, and asked. "This break—it's temporary, you said?" He leaned against the glass, watching Lex curl and uncurl in a corner of the tiled cell. Lex was vocal, angry, arguing with someone, but he left the sound muted. He wasn't interested in who Alexander was having the passionate argument with. It was amusing to watch him staring so intensely at something only he could see in the opposite corner of the cell. He smiled a little. "How do you plan to fix him?"

"Well…he's healing physically at an amazingly fast rate now—as you can see his teeth have re-grown, and the digitus quintus also, in…" He coughed lightly and the young man standing next to him quickly said, "Four days, sir." Hartnett murmured thanks and tilted his head to the man in the uniform. "So, Mr. Hati, what we want to know now is, can the subject--"

"Alexander." 

"Ye-es. Alexander. Will _Alexander_ be able to heal the damage to his mind. We don't expect so—it's not physical, after all, but our patron wants us to explore every possibility."

"I'm well aware of the Patron's desires and expectations. Thank you." He tapped on the glass and  
Alexander whirled towards the sound. He looked confused and angry, not being able to find the source. He staggered to his feet and shouted at his reflection, the only thing he could see in the glass. He gestured wildly, and Mr. Hati read his lips. 

_Fuck you, Lionel—fuck you_.

"What remarkable progress—he already knows who he is. Alexander, you are incredible…" Mr. Hati's hand caressed the glass, and ignoring Hartnett and his man, he leaned against it, fingers drifting over it as if they were on Alexander instead of glass.

"Clark, your father can't be an organic farmer and use the seed he does. It's counterproductive for an organic farm, it doesn't produce fertile crops—you know, there are a variety of heirloom seed he could plant and he'd see a better, more flavorful product, he'd no longer be dependent on the big seed companies, and he'd be doing a real service to others. You know my dream is to eradicate world hunger in my life time, with enough men like your father, I believe it's possible."

Really, Lex? World hunger? That's kind of a big job for one man, isn't it? I mean, even with Dad helping…He grinned and Lex laughed softly.

"Okay, okay, I know that sounds kind of—egomaniacal. But it's true, and I think it can be done. Dedication to the ideal and not the profit, that's what it'll take. Naturally, I'll need to make money like crazy elsewhere," he said, dryly.

Clark snickered at that, and stretched out on the bed. I know you can do it, Lex. No one's smarter than you. Heck, between the two of us, we might even be able to convince Dad.

"Your faith in me is touching, Clark." He laid his head on Clark's chest and chuckled, and Clark wrapped his hands around Lex's head. He gently smoothed his palms up and down over his scalp, warming it. 

"Mmmm, that's nice, nice and warm." Lex sighed and snuggled closer. "I'm always cold anymore. I'm going to have to have the heating system checked out. I'm sure it must be as ancient as this castle." 

They curled around each other, moved lazily against each other, touching, kissing, stroking, slowly exploring, in no hurry…they had all day, all night to spend together. Lex inhaled the scent of Clark, spicy, a little hint of sweat and salt, a faint smell of sun-warmed grass…his mouth held a touch of sweet and spice. It was wonderful, and they had all the time in the world….

There was a loud, sharp rap on the door, and the oak sounded like…metal, and Clark melted away, and Lex was rolled around a pillow by himself, in a place that for a moment he didn't recognize. He almost felt like crying when memory came flooding back. 

No matter how hard he tried—he _always_ came back, always back to reality. Not being able to go insane was…driving him insane. He laughed and hoped like hell it wasn't Mr. Hati at the door.

Clark was on the edge of sleep, in that part of it that slid in and out of fantasy and reality. He heard Lex's voice—he rolled to his side, and wished he could hear it again. He felt like he was drifting in clouds, warm clouds, soft, deep, cottony….

Lex was sitting on the floor of the cold little room, staring up at him. "I called your name. I kept calling it, it kept me from going insane."

Clark didn't stop to think what Lex was talking about. He sat down on the chilly floor next to him. It was so dark that the corners of the room were invisible. Thankfully, it was just him and Lex, in an island of pale light and Lex's face was crumpled in sorrow. Clark felt a sharp pain in his chest; he tried to speak, choked out, "I'm so sorry you died. I miss you every day, every day…sometimes, when there's no one around, I cry, thinking about you." He stopped and with a wobbly laugh, said, "I do that a lot…"

Lex's mouth worked, he swallowed hard and Clark could see he was trying to maintain control. "I—I—"

The dream changed suddenly—Lex was sitting on a narrow cot, looking like he'd been beaten, and he was talking to some big blond Nazi.

"And I've been watching you and I'd like to know—why are you such an asshole?"

Before Clark could warn him, the Nazi punched Lex in the head. Lex's head snapped back, hit the wall, and Clark screamed, stars burst bright white and blue behind his eyes, he felt pain—bone slamming against bone, as if the guy had hit him instead of Lex. When the bastard left, Lex rocked back and forth on the cot, looking as if he were about to cry. But he pulled himself upright against the wall, spit a little blood onto the tiles, and laughed, low and shaky but still, a laugh. The handle on the thick steel door rattled and started to open and Lex tried to look defiant, but his eyes were huge and dark and terrified, and Clark felt as if he were staring straight at him—

"Clark!"

Clark shot upright, clutching the edge of the mattress. That had been so real, so real. It felt like Lex was right here, close enough to touch. He could still feel the impact, the feel of skin sliding over bone. The look in Lex's eyes— so frightened. Clark shook himself. Bad, but thank god, not one of the really bad ones. 

He zipped out and did the chores he had to do, at the fastest he was capable of. He long ago stopped thinking that what he did was virtually slave labor. He was sure his parents thought they gave him enough in return to demand it of him. He wouldn't know. He didn't speak to them unless he absolutely had to. Not after all the arguments, growing bigger and bigger until they ended in the fight that had raged all night long when in a moment of anger, he told them that he'd given Adam his secret. His dad had been so angry and Clark just didn't get why—what he'd told Adam couldn't hurt _them,_ it wasn't like they cared about him, not since Lex died. They hadn't shared anything, hadn't been a family since then….

Finished with his chores, he slouched into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

His dad had called him a name. And his mother stood there, crying, and let him. The fury in his dad's eyes had been replaced by shock, and then, regret—but if he hadn't meant to call him that, if he hadn't been thinking it all along, he would never had said it.

It was okay, it really was. In fact, it was better this way. To have it in the open, have it spoken aloud instead of hiding in the corners of every word they spoke, every look. Though to be honest, recently, when he thought about that night, he got angrier and angrier.

It was stupid. They could handle the fact that he was an alien—but not that he might love another man? What was their damn logic? Because he _looked_ like a man? How the hell did they even know this wasn't right for—for—creatures like him? 

Shit.

He snorted and drank down the rest of the water, rinsed and dried the glass and put it away. He didn't want to be a burden on the Kents.

He went outside again, walking in the quiet dawn. He lingered by the cowsheds, and watched the sun come up over the fields as he thought about his dream. It felt big. Something important was hiding in the corners of it. Didn't matter really, it wasn't like he could talk about it with anyone, not like he any friends here anymore.

He jumped the fence, headed… _away._ He heard his mother call him. He didn't stop. He walked through the corn field, avoiding the main road, walked through the little woods and over the bridge and past it. He walked past the front of the castle. The air was already shimmering with heat. If he'd been human, the humidity would probably be weighing on him, but he wasn't and it meant nothing to him. 

He took a hidden path that lead to the back of the castle; a path worn through the head high grass and scrub that hadn't existed while Lex lived. 

The castle was empty of everyone but a caretaker, and showed more signs of neglect then the  
weed-choked rear lawn. Adam kept it from falling down, maintained the basics, but the gardens around the perimeter were overgrown. Only the hardiest plants survived. It used to really affect him, that empty place. It was like an empty tooth socket—he had to keep coming back to it, poking, probing the feeling it gave him. There was unfinished business there.

He slipped between the bars at the fence, avoiding what security there was, and made his way through the back gardens. He opened a rear entrance and in a blur of motion, he was in Lex's bedroom. He spent a lot of time there. He'd spent whole days lying on the dustsheet covered bed, just…staring. Thinking. He kind of thought of the room as his. And yeah, sometimes, he imagined that Lex was with him. On the bed, in the shower. He jerked off in the room sometime, with Lex in his mind….

Dust was thin in the room. He cleaned it from time to time. Once a month, housekeeping would go through the rooms, inspecting them, making sure that the structure was okay. They never seemed to notice the activity in that room. They never touched anything. What Lex had had there was still there. Clothes, jewelry, cologne, untouched, still in it's place—cufflinks laid in a wood tray, and a yellowed invitation to a party long, long over, a vignette of a life he hadn't known that he wanted to be part of. Adam walked out of this room and left it like a shrine, but Clark, he wanted to live in it, imagine Lex was coming back, any second, he'd be back….

Besides, in a way, the room was his, wasn't it? He wasn't really trespassing or intruding here if the castle was his, or would be soon. One more year, one more year and it was his. And fuck, he didn't want it. He wanted _Lex,_ not this dusty, falling down pile of stones. As soon as it was his, he'd sell it and take the money, leave, go so far away no one would know him—where it made sense that no one cared about him.

Clark was tossing and turning in his sleep. Lex kept him up. He was pacing, and mumbling, and every so often, he'd bend over and grab his face. When Lex turned, the harsh light made his face look blue-tinged and drawn. He opened his mouth to scream, and Clark saw with horror his teeth had been pulled.

He woke with a shout; sweat running down his face, and the ghost of pain in his jaws. 

God…god…what did that _mean?_ Why the hell would he dream something so weird? Clark got up from the bed and moved over to the open window. The moon was out, high in the sky. Curtains hung motionless, damp in the heavy humid air. He rubbed at his face, rubbed harder. How long had he been asleep? He let the curtains drop back over the window and walked back to the bed. He lay down, nervously, and hoped not to dream. 

When he opened his eyes again, the room was a little cooler—and he was looking into Adam's face, his green eyes icy with anger, his red mouth twisted in a snarl.

"Clark. What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

"It's mine," Clark said, and Adam's eyes went even colder. 

"Not yet, it's not." He sniffed. "Shit, it smells in here, like mold…dust…" He glanced around the room and saw a small cooler, jugs of water in the corner. The dustsheets that should have been on the furniture were folded and stacked in a corner. "What the—are you camping in here?" Clark turned red and Adam snarled. "Your parents know you're doing this?" 

Clark looked away from Adam, out toward the window. "If I'm gone for a few days, they don't say anything." He looked up at Adam and smiled coldly. "No one does. No one looks, not for…something like me." 

 

"Yeah. Poor fucking you." Adam looked around the room, Lex's bedroom. It looked like Clark had been living there for much longer than a day or two, Adam knew from the staff he'd been coming in and out of the place since the beginning of the summer. He really didn't give a shit about that, but living here…that was…nuts. All of Lex's shit was still there, untouched, unmoved, except for some picture of Lex he didn't recognize. There was also a picture of him and Lex that must have come from some gossip magazine that Clark had carefully framed.

He looked at the kid, sort of huddled and yet defiant on the bed, and he looked like…shit. He looked like kids on the street, the kind of look that you got from washing up at bus station sinks, and eating whenever, whatever, you could. 

What the fuck was going on?

"Clark, why the fuck aren't you home? This is Smallville—it's not like your folks can't find you, not like they don't know where you are."

"I don't want them," he growled. "They know to leave me alone. Besides, I don't think they care where I am." 

"Yeah, somehow I doubt that." Adam couldn't believe that the Kents would abandon their son—not like this. Even if he wasn't really theirs, even if he was nonhuman, he couldn't see them turning their backs on him.

Clark stared up at him, green eyes like emeralds in the black shadows smeared under them. 

He felt a long suppressed stir of concern. "When was the last time you really slept, Clark?" 

Clark jerked and shook his head. "I don't need to sleep."

This guy, so fucking, stupidly defiant…Adam flashed back to another kid who'd been so defiant, and scared, just like this…."Bullshit, everyone needs to sleep." 

"I'm not an everyone, I'm an every _thing,_ remember?"

Adam took a step back. Clark looked almost as intense as the last time he'd seen him—the day he'd set his papers afire with his eyes. When he'd blamed Clark for Lex's death. "Yeah, fuck that—you look like shit, you smell like gym socks. Tell me, damn it, when _did_ you last sleep? Or eat?"

"I—I'm afraid to sleep. And I really don't need as much sleep or…or food, as you do." Clark's defiant attitude collapsed like a deflating balloon. He looked exhausted, drained, and Adam's heart went out to him. Shit—he was just a kid, no matter what else he was; he was also a tired kid at the end of his rope. Desperate. Lonely.

Adam sat next to him, and after a second, he let his hand fall in the space between his leg and Clark's knee. Clark stiffened. "Tell me what's going on, Clark."

"Besides losing my family?" Clark fell back on the bed and sighed. "You're not going to want to hear this…but I have to tell someone before I lose my mind." Clark stopped, bit his lip, seemed uncertain whether he should speak. Finally he said, "It's Lex. I keep dreaming about Lex. And not nice little 'oh gosh, I miss you' dreams—not even sad dreams. They're…fucking horrible. I've seen him tortured, sliced open, beat—I've seen him get his bones broken and set so they grow wrong. And then—then—his body fixes it and it's so _horrible."_

Clark swallowed hard, and Adam stared at him, horrified. _What the fuck—_

"And—and once they pulled out all his teeth, and they cut him open and peeled his skin back and his ribs and—and put things in him, and took things out--"

Clark was green, he was breathing harder and clenching and unclenching his hands, and Adam laid his hand on his arm and it was hard as rock. "Clark—they're just dreams. Just dreams."

Clark nodded, and gulped before speaking. "I know. I know, but…they feel so real, more real than my life." He closed his eyes.

Adam watched him and said, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I feel like it's my fault you're punishing yourself like this." He stopped and took a deep breath. "So. _You_ might not want to hear this but… I miss you." He gave Clark a sardonic smile, derision aimed as usual at himself. "I'm kind of surprised how much." He laid his hand on Clark's chest, and Clark opened his eyes and laid his own hand over Adam's. 

"Yeah, well…it was an awful lot to ask of you, that you just accept it like that. I shouldn't have tried to drop that crap in your lap. I should have known better. But I appreciate that you didn't try to use it…"

Adam snorted. "Why should I? I don't have friends, I was stupid to give up the only one I had…have." He scowled at Clark. "Unless you're going to hold a grudge. In which case, fuck you, I don't need you."

Clark laughed in surprise. "You're the rudest, most ignorant and thoughtless person I've ever met."

Adam laughed, a real laugh that rang like crystal being struck. Clark gaped at him. 

"What, you thought I couldn't laugh?" Adam's hand was rubbing circles on Clark's chest. When Clark sighed and relaxed a little against his hand, Adam felt a bit of tension easing in his own chest.

"No one's touched me for a long time," Clark said softly. His eyes were closed again, and he looked a little less pinched and starving. Adam leaned over and whispered, "I know. Me either." 

His movement became more purposeful, broader sweeps, he felt Clark's nipples warm, tighten under his palm, felt his chest rise and fall a little faster. Adam moved to the band of skin revealed by Clark's thin t-shirt riding up. His skin was so warm, and smooth. Adam stopped and waited and Clark moved Adam's hand a little lower, his lips parted a bit. 

Adam took a deep breath, that little movement had made him hard. "Clark…"

Clark licked his lip and Adam groaned to himself. He couldn't help it, he had to…Adam leaned over, and touched his lips lightly to Clark's. The heat of Clark's mouth seemed to flow straight to his dick, and in seconds he was so hard it hurt. Clark was breathing harder and harder, soft full lips trembling under his and Adam cupped him, feeling how hot and hard he was through his jeans. Clark jerked and cried out softly and suddenly, stiffened. 

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I can't." Tears stood out in his eyes and he begged Adam to understand. 

"Clark, Clark, stop—don't apologize, I'm not trying to make you do something you don't want, or you're not ready for, okay? I understand that feeling, trust me." He smiled grimly, and Clark's pinched, worried look smoothed out some. "Stay here, if you want…it's your place, use it any way you care to. But you'll have to talk to your parents sometime, you know."

Clark sighed and turned to his side, shifted until his back was pressed tight against Adam. "Can you stay while I sleep a little please, in case I have another…dream?"

Adam murmured assent, and when after a little bit, Clark drifted off, he watched over him while he slept.

"I think that it's time to remove Alexander from the program. We've gotten everything we can get from him. This part of the Cadmus Project is finished, Mr. Hati. Reassign everyone involved."

Mr. Hati grinned, and asked, "Then may I have him? I'll clean up after myself, you know I always do."

"No, not yet. I think…I think I'd like him in the desert. For a while. Let me explore an avenue that might be lucrative."

Mr. Hati looked rather close to pouting. "What—ransom? Do you think his father would pay a ransom for him?" He looked doubtful. "He never seemed to exhibit any paternal interest in him before this." He licked his lips, and murmured, "I would have kept him safe. I'd never let him be taken…"

The large blonde man stood and leaned on the railing where Mr. Hati stood, looking out over the skyline of a darkened city. In the distance, deep orange moonlight quivered on ocean waves. He inclined his head and the wet breeze swept the hair from his broad forehead. Mr. Hati thought he looked like a lion, wide shoulders taking up room, and even he found it hard to breathe standing next to him. The Patron sighed and rocked back on his heels. 

"Actually, my boy, Alexander is of great interest to his father. He's a…unique individual, is Alexander's father. You know, once we were close as brothers." He turned to Mr. Hati and smiled. "Or at least I thought we were. Get Alexander ready for the journey. I'll talk to you there. Oh, and you may feel free to enjoy Alexander. Within limits, my boy, within limits."

Lex looked up when Uniform Man walked into his cell. He tensed, expecting anything, but Uniform Man sat next to him and sighed, a little whisper of sound.

"Alexander, Alexander…" His too dry and too hot hand landed on the nape of his neck and squeezed. "Are you cold? You always look a little cold; your lips are always a little blue…" He leaned against Lex and Lex closed his eyes and hoped that his nightmares weren't about to come true. 

The man grabbed his arm and yanked it out, trapped it beneath his own, and ripped up Lex's sleeve. Before Lex could react, he'd been stabbed—a needle sank into his arm and the man pumped something into his vein that burned like fire.

He jumped up and leaned over and grabbing Lex's jaw in a grip like a vise, kissed him, hard and painfully—Lex felt his lip split inside his mouth, and blood poured over both their tongues. "Mmmm. I will see you in the desert, Alexander." he said, and his voice slid down into an intimate scale that Lex felt in his gut. His head spun, and the lights got dimmer and dimmer and the last thing he was aware of was a voice whispering, "I think you'll enjoy belonging to me."

Adam stood at the open study window, watched Clark shuffle up the driveway, book bag slapping against his back, and sighed. He looked bad. Weeks had passed and Clark seemed to be wearing away, bit by bit. The dreams were getting worse and worse, Clark told him, and he could see it even from here, see it in the line of his shoulders. Poor guy. It was weird, the worse the dreams got, the harder it was for Clark to stay awake, despite how he insisted he didn't need sleep.

He called his associate and asked if he'd mind chairing the meeting with the stockholders by himself, told him an emergency had come up. Again. The man reluctantly agreed. 

"Hey Harry, I have absolute faith in you, as does the board. They know who's really running the show, right?"

Harry had hung up after wringing a promise out of him to keep his absence as brief as possible. "I understand that things come up, obligations that can't be put aside, but I do need you to be onboard with us. The board members need a show of solidarity, Adam."

He sighed. Harry was such a worrywart. Thank god he'd agreed to take on the reins of LexCorp, or it wouldn't exist, except as an afterthought of LuthorCorp. He had no idea why he was driven to keep Lexcorp healthy—he just knew he needed it to be. It'd be losing to Lex's father if it wasn't.

Clark was at the doorway, tapping gently on the frame. "Adam! I'm so glad you're here. Are you busy, can I come in?"

Adam came up to him, and kissed him, light, chaste as always, and as always, felt a wave of warmth flood him, running from his mouth to pool in his dick. The fleeting touch of Clark's lips just begged him to bite and nibble and lick…. 

He pulled back, and licked his own lips; he could never kiss Clark without wanting to touch his own mouth, to feel the heat. "You know, Clark," he said a little breathlessly, "This is your place; you don't need my permission to enter any room."

Clark smiled, and rubbed his cheek against Adam's before stepping into the room. Adam swore to himself. God, the kid must have driven Lex half insane. No wonder….

"I know, you keep telling me." He sat on the couch and grinned up at him. "And telling me." Clark was in a good mood and that was great, but physically, he was a mess. Pale, drawn, wide dark blotches under his eyes, and from the way his collarbones stuck out, he obviously hadn't been eating. Again. 

"Clark…"

He let out a tired sigh. "Please, Adam, just let me lay down, I need some sleep, just a little. I promise I'll eat after that."

"Okay—but I'm waking you up in an hour and you're definitely going to eat. And after that, we sit outside, okay, get a little sun. You look like a frog's belly. By the way—I'm here in Smallville for the week."

Clark's eyes lit up, and for a moment he flushed a healthy pink, his lips were red, and his eyes—that sparkling green of a wild ocean. Adam knew again why Lex had fallen for him. He was an Adonis, Clark. Just amazing…and just as suddenly, the color rushed out of Clark's face, and he lay back, as if the emotion had exhausted him. He whispered, "I hate sleeping, Adam, I hate to sleep, but I see him then…"

He was out, snoring lightly and Adam sat on the couch next to him. He lifted Clark's feet and laid them across his lap, and watched him.

When next Lex woke, it was to a new place, to an apartment, a lovely place, carpeted floors, papered walls, drapes and…what happened to the cell?

He jerked to his feet, tripping and stumbling, caught in sheets and surprised by the height of the bed. And it was a real bed—not a cot. It was wide, and the sheets weren't hospital harsh and faded blue—these were fine quality sheets. He touched them and they were so delicious against his fingertips, he groaned, experienced a miniature sensory overload. They even smelled good—he rubbed his face in the linens and groaned again—whirled around. He blushed deeply, embarrassed that they'd seen him react like a fool.

He blinked. There was no window. 

There were drapes, long, heavy drapes, the ends puddled against the floor. The bed was in an antique style, four poster, the couch in the room was velvet, heavy, with wood feet and trim—it was in an eye-watering, hideous reproduction Art Nouveau style, designed by someone who couldn't possibly have ever seen an actual piece. He shuddered, and laughed at himself. He'd been trapped with only a cot in a tiled box for God knows how long, and he was critiquing the furnishings? Fuck, this was heaven—he jumped up and ran to the door set in the far wall, ripped it open. Behind it was—he gasped. 

A bathroom. A private bathroom, a tub, a shower, sink, toilet—he dashed around the room. He could bathe—now, if he wanted, for as long as he wished—

He laid his hand on the cool, smooth ceramic of the fountain sized sink, and horribly, unstoppably, tears began to flow. He stood in the middle of the marble and chrome room, head down, hands at his side, and sobbed his heart out. 

When he'd managed to control himself, he walked back to the large sitting-sleeping room, and opened other doors. One led to a modest closet hung with clothes—clothes! The other led to a tiny kitchenette. And this room had the expected mirror in it, the one-way glass. He sneered at the glass, looked through the cabinets.

Nothing breakable, nothing sharp—he laughed. Nothing…stabby. Grinning, he opened the tiny fridge and just as he expected, among other items, chilled bottles of TyNant rested on one shelf. 

So. Lionel finally came out into the open, Lex thought, he'd finally revealed himself. Lex snorted softly, lifted a bottle from the shelf and cracked it open. He strolled over to the drapes, sipping at the water, eyeing the other luxuries in the room. He pulled back the drapes. Dropped the bottle.

Water splashed out unheeded over the carpet, over his bare foot. 

Desert. Scrub, sand…alien vegetation dotting bronze hills swelling, rolling on and on and on, as far as the eye could see. Heat shimmered in the air. The sun was a brassy ball high in the sky, and if the windows hadn't been tinted, he would have burned his eyes out.

Ah. He swallowed. Not Kansas, then.

He was still standing, open mouthed and stunned, when a knock at the door announced a visitor.

"Come in—" he coughed. "Come?" he said, a little weaker. He wasn't sure if he had the choice to make.

Mr. Hati strode into the room, followed by a man pushing a cart holding covered dishes. Lex's stomach almost cramped at the smell. Real food, food with flavor, and texture, and heat…his mouth filled, he swallowed frantically, he'd kill himself before anyone saw him drool.

There was coffee, he smelt coffee—he turned away quickly and ground his fists into his eyes. 

"Feel free to express your emotions, Alexander. It's very attractive." The words were breathed hot and damp in his ear. "You have no more work to do. Just enjoy and relax, until I tell you otherwise." 

An arm hard as iron locked over his chest, the other hand, papery dry, hot, slid over Lex's bare stomach, teased open the waistband of his sleep pants. His fingers barely stroked the skin under his navel. Lex wanted to have no reaction—he wished desperately for no reaction. But with the smell of coffee, the feel of the silk against his starved body…the promise of food and warmth and comfort…it was too much. His head dropped back against the uniform clad shoulder behind him. He moaned, his dick filling, swelling in that hand, that hated hand…his eyes rolled back as Hati stroked and teased him, rubbing the palm of his hand over Lex, rubbing precome into his skin, licking at his scalp. 

Lex panted, and thrust into the man's fist, totally unable to stop himself or to stop the pathetic whimpers pouring out of him. Hati squeezed tighter, and he frantically fucked, clutched at, ground his ass against the man that helped to make his life hell—worse than hell—before he arched and screamed as he came. It felt like fire pouring out of him, burning him, his dick, on and on until he collapsed, and only Hati's grip on him kept him from dropping to the floor.

 

Mr. Hati stepped back. "You can eat now. I will watch."

Lex looked at him, panting, shaking, "What about…" he indicated his wet pants, come smearing his stomach and chest. 

"Eat." Hati ordered. "Or, perhaps you are not very hungry?"

Lex hated the animal moan of fear that burst out of him, he nearly ran to the table as Hati chuckled. 

"Here." He took cover after cover off the dishes and exposed crisp skinned roast chicken, and slices of cloud white bread, golden butter, thick gravy, and glistening bright orange carrots, crisp green beans—food, food, steaming and hot—he stuck a finger into the gravy and licked, and his jaws cramped instantly. His eyes flooded again, and Hati laughed, filled a plate for him. "Eat now, Alexander, enjoy the meal."

Lex ate, with come drying on his chest, gluing the silk pants to his skin. He ignored it. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he frantically stuffed bits of food into his mouth, and drank wonderful hot coffee, rich and strong, gulped down a tiny glass of too sweet white wine that made his head swim, moaned as he bit into dripping strawberries, fat and red and sweet, swimming in a dish of cream…

He sat back and gasped. He was full, so full it was uncomfortable—he couldn't remember having eaten so much, ever. Ever. His stomach rolled a bit, and he groaned. He couldn't help it; he'd eaten like he was afraid the food would be taken from him. He was ashamed at how much the fear of that had motivated him.

"If you want to eat like this again, you will do whatever I say. All of this," he swept a hand around, "depends on what you do. For me." 

"You want me to be a whore," Lex spat.

"Among other things, yes," Mr. Hati answered casually. He stood and walked out of the room. A moment later, the cart was removed. 

Lex sat at the table and crushed the tablecloth in his hand. _Well. Well._

Lex woke early, and was ordered to make himself presentable, which was not as annoying as it might have been because he took the opportunity to indulge in a long hot shower. He soaped every bit of himself, smoothing lather over his skin, inhaling the wonderful fragrance. Relishing the feel of being clean, of soap that didn't rub his skin raw, of water that pounded tight muscles, and kept its temperature. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall and let the water pour over him.

He wondered for the millionth time, what Clark was doing. If Clark assumed he'd moved back to Metropolis without telling him. Wondered if he missed him, maybe looked for him. Lex had the feeling a long time had passed since he'd been…caged. Clark probably didn't even think about him any more, he was busy with his friends and his parents, certainly, why would he miss some guy he hadn't even really known that long…. 

Lex sighed. He missed going to Clark's house, and even missed the barn. He missed watching Clark do his chores, big chest gleaming in the sun, the way his jeans rode low on his hips, and sometimes, he'd track the path of a bead of sweat, rolling over Clark's back, lower and lower until it hit the band of his jeans and darkened the material there, and God—did he want to darken that material too, he'd wanted to come all over that broad, muscled, sweat glazed back, he wanted to come all over his ass and watch it drip down between—he clenched his teeth to muffle a scream and bucked his hips, shot against the shower door. He gasped and dropped back against the heated ceramic wall, his eyelids fluttering. 

He shook his head, and cradled his sensitive dick. Seems he was alive again….

Lex was dressed in clothes he would have picked himself, and sitting in an ultra-modern office, very clean, spare, and he entirely approved of the choices. By the look of disgust that flashed over Mr. Hati's face, he knew who'd decorated _his_ room. Jesus. Figured a sadistic bastard like that would have taste in his ass.

Hati pressed him down into a chair, and told him, "Quiet. Wait. The Patron will speak to you."

Lex's heart hammered in his chest. Finally. Dad was about to reveal himself.  
The office door opened. 

"Hello, Lex. What a pleasure." 

Morgan Edge stood in the doorway.

"Lex…" He sat at the acres big glass and chrome desk and folded his hands. He inclined his head, his mouth bowed in an avuncular smile and his blue, blue eyes trapping him in his chair. "Lex, my boy. How good to see you looking less…peaked. Purple suits you, dear boy. Not many can say that." He smiled on, and Lex felt the need to scream. Edge leaned back, away from him, and Lex eagerly sucked up air.

"We appreciate everything you've contributed to our cause so far—" Lex snorted and Edge raised an eyebrow. When Mr. Hati jerked forward, hand upraised, Edge motioned him back. 

Lex shivered. "My father—I know Lionel did this, I heard those men mention Cadmus—that's his research lab…"

Morgan was shaking his head. "No. Lionel is not involved. Cadmus Project has no connection to him or his labs. You know that the myth of Cadmus refers to the ancient Greek ruler who sowed the teeth of a dragon, from which sprang a race of fierce, nearly invincible men? We've been trying to sow our own dragon's teeth, and thanks to you, we may be closer to success than ever before, Lex."

All Lex understood, all he heard, was that his dad was not involved. "He doesn't know? How can he not know?"

Morgan pushed something across his desk; Lex saw it was a copy of a newspaper clipping, the front page of the Daily Planet. The headline shouted "Luthor Scion Dies In Fiery Crash". There was a picture of the Porsche, horribly twisted and seared black. Covering one corner of the Porsche photo was an inset photo of him, from his days at Princeton; he looked stoned, stupid….

He looked up at Edge. "What—what does this mean?"

"It means, Lex, that you're legally dead, you do not exist." 

The room swooped around him for a moment. "Dead. Dad thinks I'm dead…Clark, Adam…they think I'm dead. Oh." Close on the heels came the realization…

"You belong to us, yes. Or, more correctly, to Mr. Hati." Mr. Hati grinned happily. "Now we plan to let your father know you are alive, in a rather unique way. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Lex sat in a plain wooden chair, in front of a gray screen. He wore clothing Edge insisted he wear, a too big white oxford shirt, jeans. He held a newspaper with a date that had made him…well, made him throw up, actually. Almost two years had passed according to the date.

"…and unless the money is deposited in the account, I'll be killed—oh this is ridiculous, you might as well kill me now—ow!"

He dropped to the floor where Mr. Hati slapped him, blood pouring from his lip.

"The Patron didn't ask you for your opinion, you have only to repeat what is written, and look appropriately frightened. _Not_ annoyed." He pointed at the prompter, his leather clad hand splashed with red. "Read only what is here, understand?"

Lex groaned. "It's crazy, it's stupid. He'll never believe that it's me—he'll figure you hired an actor, he'll assume it's a stupid prank, he'll…" Dad might buy it, Lex knew what he looked like: malnourished, bruised, wearing cast-off clothing…it was a look Lionel had seen before and he might believe it was him. And knowing Lionel, it might not mean a thing. He'd more than likely broken the will by now—everything was probably his.

"You present a good point. One we've discussed. Do not worry, we have a plan." Morgan motioned Mr. Hati forward, and he came to kneel in front of Lex. He took his hand, and kissed his knuckles. He kissed each fingertip, and Lex watched him, tight lipped and nervous. He took his little finger and slipped it into his mouth, tongued and sucked it. Lex gasped and jerked, and when he felt teeth begin to close over it, he began to scream. 

Mr. Hati let Lex's finger fall from his mouth and laughed. Before Lex could stop screaming, draw a breath, Hati whipped a knife from his pocket and severed the finger.

In a rush, memories washed over him, his finger being sliced away, growing back, and it happening…maybe more times than he could let himself believe. He gratefully passed into the dark corners rushing at him.

When he woke again, he was stripped, his hand bandaged and he was on the bed in his very fancy cell. Mr. Hati was in the room, and Lex shuddered when he saw the long, grey line of Hati's back. He turned and smiled. "Awake, Alexander? Good."

He walked to the bed, unbuttoned his tunic as he came, dropping it behind him. He climbed up over Lex on the bed. "Feeling better?"

Lex's breath came in short, gasping jerks, cold sweat popped out all over his body. He was weak—too weak to move. Helpless, terrified because of it, he was racked with trembling when Hati's hand slid down his ribs, into his crotch. He bit down on a scream when the papery-dry palm closed around his dick. A moment later, Hati drew back, was opening his pants, shoving them down his hips, he ground against Lex's naked skin as Lex stuttered, "No, no no no…."

Hati shoved his hand under Lex's hips, pushed his fingers into him.

Lex yelled, choked, and fought to stop begging. It was going to happen, he could only try to make it happen with less pain, or so he hoped desperately. He felt heat and hardness prod him, felt the push, the savage thrust that forced the head into him. The pain, the burn, intensified as Hati slammed into him. He felt like he was being ripped to pieces. When he pulled out, the pain of that made Lex's head reel, and then, then he was being lubed. When Hati pushed back in, he was slicked and it wasn't quite as painful. Not quite. Hati rammed in and out of Lex and Lex tried to escape somewhere inside himself, to wait….

"Lex. Oh my god, what happened this time?"

Lex was standing in the room they'd given him, his hand ached, it was ungodly painful, and Lex knew he'd lost that finger this morning and Clark seemed aware something very wrong had happened. He looked up at Clark who looked so real, in fact more and more, Lex's dreams seemed to be more—solid. Did that mean, thank god, that he was finally going crazy?

"God, Lex. These dreams are killing me. Why do they keep happening?" 

"…what?"

"Lex, the things that are happening to you—they're awful. This place--" He stopped and his jaw dropped as he looked around. "—whoa. Is not the same. This is _really_ different—this is pretty. Except for that ugly couch, wow that thing is ugly as sin. Better than that ugly cell, though."

Clark looked so personally offended by the couch that Lex felt a momentary urge to laugh. As quickly as the warm bubble rose in his chest it sank again. Cell? Clark knew about the cell…? 

"Clark. Clark."

Clark was next to him in a second. "Lex." Clark touched him and stroked his shoulder. "God, I miss you. I wish all the time that you were still alive, I miss you, love you…" 

He murmured over and over how much he missed him loved him and he told it right into his skin and Lex leaned into his solid warmth, reluctant to interrupt him, except for one major thing. Dream logic made it important that he tell him—

"I'm not dead."

Clark stepped back, a puzzled smile on his face. 

"I'm not dead, Clark, I'm alive." He took a deep breath, and felt a little giddy, like he was stepping over the edge into that elusive insanity.

Clark stepped back again. "…Lex?" 

His eyes were wide and Lex could see…a desire to believe. It was so realistic, so Clark…Lex decided what the hell—treat it real. "Everyone thinks I'm dead—I'm not. You're in the castle, right? You inherited it. It'll be yours in a few months, and Adam, he's got every thing else, and Dad must be freaking out, and Clark…" Lex stopped, a weird feeling rose in him, a definite feeling of… "Maybe…maybe this is real?"

Clark was white as a sheet. He shook his head, backed away, trembling…

Lex said softly, "It's been two years…" and tears rolled down his cheeks.

For some reason, the tears broke Clark's paralysis—he gasped, reached towards Lex. "It's been two years…Lex…can this be happening? Can you really be _alive?_ Lex, god, I want this to be real! Please let it be real!"

"Clark, shit—Clark--" the door opened behind him, and the dream shivered into a million pieces.

Two days passed, two days with no food. Lex paced his room, drinking water to try and stem the rising gnawing wave of hunger, hunger, clawing at him, ripping him….

He paced and paced, he rolled in the blankets on the bed and tried to sleep thorough the pain, but it rousted him out of bed again. He moved, he drank; he curled around his pillow and chewed the cotton cover. He was hungry. No, he was _hungry._

He'd never felt hunger like this before. He became light-headed, and a few times he'd gone into the kitchen and smashed his fists against the glass wall, punching and punching until blood smeared the glass, screaming at it. "I'm, hungry! Hungry, you fuck!"

The fifth day, he lay on the carpet, and felt his stomach press against his backbone, the pain was happening to someone else, someone far, far away. He daydreamed about food, meals he'd had, meals he wanted to have…food.

The door opened and the rich smell of food assaulted his nose. The odor of food made his mouth water so violently that he drooled before he could stop himself. The roar of his stomach would have been embarrassing at one point of his life, if not for the fact the last few days, he'd listened to it as a way to tell he wasn't dead. 

Hati pushed a cart loaded with dishes closer, wafting the scent of life through the room and Lex eyed it like a poisonous snake. If there was one thing he'd learned in his new life, it was that nothing came easy, or free.

"The point of this exercise was to reinforce the lesson that you're mine. And because I like watching you." Hati unzipped as he walked closer to Lex. "I'm your god, you could say. I'm the All-father, as far as you're concerned." He pulled his dick from the folds of his pants and smiled.

"Now, I want you to suck me."

Lex's stomach flipped, and a dry rustle of nausea swept up his throat. Hati came nearer, and the huge gnawing craving for food made the musky scent of Mr. Hati's flesh…delicious. His mouth watered, his eyes watered. Lex eyed the clear drop of fluid suspended in the slit of the glistening, smooth plum of his dickhead and Lex's tongue slid out before he could think, lapped it into his mouth. He hissed, groaned, as the flavor burst in his mouth like an attack. Suddenly he was desperate for it, he sucked and sucked, drank pre-come like ambrosia, he whimpered and moaned, and his stomach growled loud….

Hati grabbed Lex's head, and fucked his mouth without regard to his ability to breath around the column of flesh trying to wedge in his throat. Lex sucked hard, until the dick in his mouth pulsed, swelled and pumped come straight down his throat. He barely needed to swallow, it was so hard, so violent…Hati pulled out and Lex sat still for a moment, trying to taste what his stomach told him was food. He licked swollen lips cut by his teeth, tasting blood and faintly, chlorine, mushrooms and salt and for a moment savored the taste…and then he folded, retched painfully and his stomach emptied itself. His throat closed and opened, his eyes were streaming and his gut ached…. 

What his stomach had held was on the floor in front of him. Horribly, for a moment, he considered vaguely, dimly, licking it back up. He retched again when he realized what he was thinking. 

Hati crouched next to him, soothing him, wiping his sweating forehead with a cool damp cloth. "Shh, shh," he said and pulled Lex into his lap, and fed him tiny slivers of food with his fingers. "Better, yes?" He held the food just out of Lex's reached until he moaned some sort of agreement, and then Hati slid the morsel into his mouth, chased it with a kiss. "Much better."

The odd and random acts of terror against him began to lose their power over him, in a sense. When terrible things happened, Lex came to accept it as part of his daily life. In the back of his mind, he held out hope…hope that his father was going to ransom him, hope that Clark would realize that the dreams weren't dreams and come rescue him—hope that his feeling that the dreams were actually contact wasn't just his mind finally letting go….

Sometimes Clark was a silent, always horrified, observer, more and more Lex thought he felt him, but wasn't sure. More and more his life was painful. His psychotic keeper was inventive and playful. 

Everyday he waited. What was worse, he wondered, having no hope of survival, or waiting….

Lex screamed into the pillow, hands stretched wide between the bedposts, the cuffs cutting into them. He'd tried not to make a sound, but the pain got bigger that he could handle. Hati leaned over and his hot breath assaulted Lex's ear. "My hand is so far inside you, can you feel it?"

Lex tried to throw himself into the quiet white place he usually fled to, but this—the pain filled him, anchored him in the room—kept him from running away.

He felt like he'd been bleeding for hours. He was spread eagled in the center of the big bed that he knew now had nothing to do with his comfort, and felt blood drying on his skin. He could feel the spread was wet under him, mostly come…he hoped. He could lie like this for most of the day and by morning, be fine—no sign anything had happened to him. He glanced at his arms, and shuddered. The skin was already pink, flakes of black skin under his trembling arms were the only signs that something bad had happened to him. He pulled himself loose from the sticky mess gluing him to the bedspread and staggered to the bathroom. He set the shower to lukewarm, sat under the spray and cried.

When he slouched out of the bathroom, wrapped in the huge thick towels the room was stocked with daily, the bed was fresh and clean, the air was clear and cool and smelled of nothing but lavender. The curtains were opened wide to let in the blazing sun, lighting every corner of his cage.

_'He's going to contact me today, he's going to contact me today, he'll give in, he'll pay, he's coming to get me, get me…'_ Lex squeezed his eyes shut and felt a slow, hot, liquid crawl down his chest, his ribs, felt it slip over his side and heard it drop to the sheets. A faster slide of hot liquid followed it, more, thicker, hotter, pouring out….

"What are you waiting for, Alexander? Rescue?" a voice laughed, somewhere in his head…a cold slip and stab, and pain flared bright and new along his nerves…

_Rescue…._

He felt the tongue along his ribs, painful and rasping as burlap, like the tongue of a lion, each heavy swipe brought a fresh gasp of pain, a fresh prayer.

_Rescue…_


	3. Part Three

"It's real. These dreams—they're not dreams. Lex is alive." Clark was agitated, almost frantic. He jabbed his spoon into the thick soup Adam had tried to tempt him with.

"Clark…" Adam sighed, "I want him to be alive too. But you know we buried him. Clark, if you'd seen what—what—was left." Adam stuttered into silence as he trailed his spoon through the remainder of the soup, round and round.

Clark gasped in horror. "You? But why you? Lionel should have identified…"

He waved away Clark's question. "There's nothing sinister about that. Lionel was out of the country; I was here. There is a body in that coffin, and Lionel had nothing to do with it, trust me. His grief was genuine, Clark. He may be ten kind of asshole, but losing his son hurt him.

"Well, fine, there's a body in the coffin, but it isn't Lex. Lex. Is. Alive." Clark glowered at Adam, who was torn between slapping Clark and hugging him.

"Clark—fuck, knock it off, before they cart you off to Belle Reeve. Between wandering around all night and passing out instead of sleeping, I'm not surprised you think…well…all kinds of weird things."

Clark paced around the library, almost vibrating with tension. He picked up Lex's things, stroking them, fondling the small artworks, taking books out of the shelf, rifling through them and shoving them back, book after book. He talked, rapidly, "Okay, okay, let's see, what if I described what he looked like, maybe something only you could know….

Um…he's got very little body hair, what he does have is bright red. Unh, a little in his…um…crotch area, like a-a few hairs…" He looked at Adam and blushed beet red. "I see him…naked." 

Adam sighed, shook his head. His voice went soft and gentle when he spoke to Clark. "Sure you do, and it's understandable. You're confused, there are all these _feelings_ floating around and." Adam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Clark—Lex was completely hairless, no body hair at all, save his lashes and eyebrows, and you know they were brown, pale brown, certainly not red..."

Clark stopped, his jaw dropped a little, "But that _can't_ be right. He has some hair, just a tiny bit…he has freckles, he…he…"

Adam took pity on Clark, and decided to play along, humor him a bit. "Well, he does have a distinctive mark, a birthmark, actually." He smiled, just a bit, and glanced at Clark. Clark rolled his eyes and jittered from foot to foot. 

"Well? What—what is it? Okay, it's somewhere private, I get it, come _on!"_

"He's got this little heart-shaped mark on his ass. Actually, right here," and Adam indicated the small of his back. "Here. Right above the cleft of his ass."

Clark said, "I've only seen him naked from the front." His eyes were wide and distressed. "I've never seen his—his ass. He's always on his back. This…this guy…it's always the same, he's on his back and this guy, he does things to him, bad things, and then he fucks him."

Adam jerked back. "What—right. See? That right there is why you're just dreaming—shit, having _horrible_ fucking nightmares. Lex is a dedicated top—no way does he get fucked."

Clark went on as if Adam hadn't said a word, his eyes a million miles away, staring into the nightmare where his Lex was. "He cries afterward, when the guy leaves, he cries."

Adam had enough—he grabbed Clark by the collar, and Clark was stunned enough to let himself be moved. "Lex—Lex wouldn't cry. He would never, ever _ever_ fucking cry, I don't give a _fuck_ what the circumstances were, he—

"He sits in the corner of the cell, and covers his head, and he cries and cries and when he does that, he won't talk to me—"

Adam screamed, "Shut up! Shut up! _Shut up!"_

Clark finally snapped out of the odd state he'd fallen into, jerked like he was awakening from a nightmare. His eyes were glazed, swimming with tears as he looked at Adam, "Please…please don't be mad at me again."

Adam groaned. "Oh god, Clark, I'm sorry. It's just…things are rough all over what with school and the business, and Lionel's been acting crazier than normal. And now, you." 

Clark folded Adam into his arms, smoothing his hands in wide circles around his back. Adam was just starting to relax between the soothing movement, the warmth…maybe Clark was done with the insanity.

"Adam? What if we looked at the body? In the coffin?"

"God damn it!" Adam shoved Clark away and dropped back on the couch, groaned in concert with it. "You're going to kill me. No, we can _not_ dig up Lex because you're a crazy mother fucker who thinks a dead man is talking to him—" 

Clark was straddling his lap, hands on his shoulder, and face an inch from his. "We don't have to dig the coffin up—I'll be able to _see_ past the ground…unless…did his father bury him in a lead coffin? Lead blocks my powers. My abilities."

Adam stared at Clark, tried to ignore the heat he produced, and the tight abdomen that pressed up against his. "You-you—can see through the ground?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice even.

"Shit, I can see through anything. Except lead." 

"It's wood and…just wood…" Adam knew Clark was telling the truth about what he could do…was it possible that…?

No. No, damn it, Lex was dead. He'd seen his corpse, he'd identified whatever remained of his possessions—he'd recognized his _shoes._ How horrible that had been…everything twisted and burnt beyond recognition but Lex's shoes. It'd been like some horrible joke. Or slap in the face. 

"Okay, okay, good. I only need to look at the skeleton, and…."

Adam nodded. "Well, there's a slight flaw in your plan, Clark. Unless you spent a lot of time staring at Lex's skeleton, how the hell would you know it's his—" A niggling thought poked him in the back of the brain; he stared at Clark. _"Did_ you, Clark?"

_"No!_ I mean, no—and damn it, you're right. Fuck!" Clark shoved himself off Adam's lap, and Adam sighed. He pressed down quickly on his no longer warm, but still hard dick, before turning to Clark. He said, "Look, maybe if we had x-rays, or something, we could check the bones in the coffin against them." Damn it—he was beginning to sound as if he believed the kid. But Clark looked alive, more alert than he had in a while. 

"Gosh, yes—Lex probably has had more x-rays than anyone else in town—there've got to be some at the clinic!" He jumped up and started for the door. 

"Wait, Clark—even if they were still on file, they aren't just going to hand them to you. I have an idea…" 

Clark looked on impatiently as Adam dialed a number, waited a beat and then said, "Hey. It's me—no, no, I'm fine. Yeah. Yeah, it was a fucking shame. Listen…did you ever treat him for broken bones…yeah, all right, you can stop laughing now. Did you…" he motioned Clark over and pushed a pen and a pad of paper towards him. "Okay, so, what…broken wrist, okay—fractured ribs, broken collar bone. Bones."

Clark was writing and glancing up at Adam from time to time with a look of growing horror. Adam went on, his voice getting softer and softer as the list grew.

"Fractured eye socket—you're kidding. Broken leg, finger. Three broken fingers…shit. What the fuck, was he in a war? Are you kidding…he was what? Fuck. No, don't tell me more. Did his father know? Shit. Thanks Toby, I appreciate it. I really do. Bye."

He hung up and stared at Clark, who was staring back, mouth slack with shock, his eyes swimming. "What happened to him, Adam? Why was he so broken up?"

Adam ground out through clenched teeth, "Some of it was 'friends' he made on the street, some of it was himself...some Lionel. I think we can figure the worst happened when he worked the streets. I knew—I _thought_ I knew—about that."

The pen Clark was holding nearly ripped through the paper. "What? The streets—Lex? Why…why would he do something like that? He—he didn't need to."

"There are reasons for everything, Clark." Adam changed the subject. "Okay. Will you be able to recognize broken bones or fractures?"

Clark nodded, distractedly, his mind still on visions of Lex, and the awful list of broken bones.

"Do you want to go now, or do you need to…I don't know, tell your parents we're leaving town?" 

Clark barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they won’t even notice I'm gone. No. Let's go now. I have to prove to you that whoever's in that coffin is not Lex—and we need to start looking for him, as soon as possible. It feels like his time is running out."

He walked to the door, and Adam looked after him, thinking. Thinking that he'd waited for too long to help Clark the way he needed to be helped. He felt a flare of shame. He'd sacrificed Clark to his own selfishness. Adam promised himself that he'd do something for Clark, soon. Right after this thing—this trip to the city, he'd do what he could to get Clark the help he need.

Lex stared at door, waiting for it to open. It was nearly time—felt like it anyway. The door opened, and the cart rolled in pushed by someone who didn't register because they didn't exist in any meaningful way. Behind him came the person who was God, for all intents and purposes.

How was he going to eat today? Would he have to beg for it, would he be fed like a pet, or would they pretend to be real people—have a table set with white linen, music and champagne and current events—?

He pressed his hand against his mouth, hard, to smother a high-pitched giggle. 

Mr. Hati smiled at him. "In a good mood this evening, Alexander? Lovely." He walked to the windows and closed the drapes on the evening sky, whisking away the sight of a purple sky dusted with diamonds—unimportant, unimportant.

Mr. Hati circled Lex's waist with one arm and pinched the slight swell of flesh over the band of his trousers. "Mmmm. Good enough to eat." He nudged Lex back, and ran greedy hands over his waist, his shoulders; he bit at Lex's soft round chin and licked at his mouth. "You taste so good…"

Lex waited, calmly breathing in and out. In a minute, God tell Lex what to do. He walked backwards; pulling Lex with him. He sat on the edge of the sofa, and told Lex to kneel.

He knelt between Mr. Hati's legs, and was fed spoonfuls of food, Mr. Hati teasing him a little, making him reach and chuckling when Lex invariably chased the spoon, mouth fluttering, helplessly pinned between his knees. Mr. Hati laughed, and stroked the licked-clean bowl of the spoon over Lex's cheek.

"You know, your father sent the package back. It was opened and resealed, and I don't think he's going to play our game. There was a note tucked inside—it said you'd understand." Mr. Hati rose and walked away, across the room. He paced back and forth, wandering from bookcase to the table to the couch, to…the bed. He sat. "An interesting man, your father." He frowned. "I don't think I'd like him very much."

Lex waited on his knees, leaning against the sofa. He'd known it would end like this; surely Lionel's reaction came as no surprise to them. It wasn't worth thinking about. Just as he knew his dreams of Clark were simply that, dreams, his imagining a rescue had been fantasy, something to pass the time, and now—time was nearly at an end. The hope he'd held had long since withered to dust. He looked up into the dead blue eyes staring at his, waiting for a reaction. He shrugged. What was, was.

Mr. Hati huffed a little, tapping his fingers on his thigh impatiently. Lex stood and walked to the bed, shedding clothes as he did.

They brought white lilies.

Adam promised that whatever Clark found, he would take at face value. Clark told him, if he wanted, he could dig up the coffin, and replace it easily in no time. 

Adam shook his head. "Oh, no. I don't want to see…that again. Whatever you see, I'm sure…is the truth." Clark nodded, and pushed in front of him and he moved to the side. 

Clark stared at the neatly cared for plot of earth in the shadow of a scaled down black marble obelisk. To Adam, he appeared to be thinking hard; his face had the unfocused look of someone deep in memory. Adam waited, and Clark began to look hopeful, it was almost painful to see, how hopeful he looked. "There's…nothing. Nothing at all. None of the breaks Toby told you about—I told you Lex wasn't here." His voice was hushed, but vibrated with suppressed excitement.

"Are you sure? Clark—you're sure?"

"The neck of this skeleton—it's been broken. It's the only break."

"You're telling me that someone was killed to provide a corpse? Why? What would be the point? Why fake Lex's death if it was a kidnapping, and who would want to? They got nothing out of it—what would be the point?"

"What if Lex had something that only he could give, something that his body produced, that he needed to be _alive_ to give? I think he was kidnapped, but not for money—I think they needed something from him. His living body."

The realization hit Adam like a wave. He felt like he'd been dipped in ice, and Clark nodded, so pale his lips were almost blue, and said, "What my parents claimed they were always afraid of happening to me, is happening to Lex right now. That's why I've been having these horrible dreams. They've been doing that to _Lex,_ testing him, tearing him to bits. Finding…finding out what makes him tick."

Adam's stomach roiled, he swallowed frantically in an effort to keep from being sick—he lost the fight, leaned over and threw up at the edge of the dwarf box hedge bordering the grave. 

Clark stuffed his hands under his arms, and rocked back on his heels. "God—do you think—think his father knew? Do you think _he_ did that to him?"

Adam wiped at his mouth, shook his head. "No. No way—I can't believe that. Like I said, he's a dick, but he's not that big a dick."

Clark looked unconvinced, but didn't try to argue. "Now what?"

"Now—we find him." _Or find out what happened to him…._ Adam could feel himself being sucked into Clark's little fantasy world. Adam desperately wanted to believe there might be a chance that he'd see Lex again. He was afraid to hope—to even dream—that one day he might see Lex again, touch him, feel his hands on him again…even as he tried to deny the possibility, his heart beat faster, hope began to creep in around the edges.

Adam tore Lex's study apart; he was incredibly grateful that he'd given in to sentimentality and left everything in the castle the way it was when Lex died. Or…whatever had happened to him.

Clark worked over the rest of the castle, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might be a clue to what Lex had been doing before he was taken. He found plenty of bugs—in the entertainment room, in the kitchen, in closets. A few had been disabled and returned to their spots, some had sticky notes attached to them, with almost good-natured and wryly amused comments written on them—he recognized Lex's hurried hand writing—there was a small, cartoon lion sketched under one of the comments Lex had dashed off—

God, and he'd thought the relationship he had with _his_ parents was fucked up. 

Clark collected and disabled any working bugs and headed back to the study. Adam was at Lex's desk, cursing quietly. He was trying to open a safe that he'd found behind a bookshelf. 

Clark admired his tenacity. "Wow, I never would have thought to look back there! Do you need help?"

"Yes, great, you can probably hear the tumblers drop into place—I should have thought about that." He stepped back and let Clark get closer to the safe.

Adam whispered, "Do I need to get back farther so you're not distracted by my heart bea—" Clark punched his fist straight through the lock. "—or that. That works too." 

Adam blinked as Clark peeled the safe's door away. "There you go," Clark said, with a shy smile. 

Inside was a stack of personal papers, a banded stack of bills, and a few pictures shoved against the back wall of the safe. One was a photo of Chloe's wall of weird. Clark felt an unhappy and sick nostalgia at the sight. There was a picture of his mother and him; he was wearing his barn jacket, a basket of apples in his hands. His mom had an arm around his shoulders and they were smiling straight into the camera. Clark stared a moment—the look on his face was so—how was it that Lex never saw, never took the chance? He sighed. Why should Lex have seen in his eyes what he'd obviously missed in Lex's? 

He threw the photo aside, and picked up the next in the pile. It was a picture of an unsmiling, solemn faced little boy in a school blazer. His eyes were a clear blue and his hair was bright red, and curled over his forehead. Adam leaned over Clark's shoulder and gasped softly. "Is that—is that Lex?"

Clark turned over the photograph, and printed across the back was Excelsior Boys' Preparatory School and written in a large round child's hand underneath, _Alexander J. Luthor._

Adam breathed, "Fuck me, he had red hair…"

Clark smiled and ran his finger lightly across the boy's face. "Told you." He briefly scanned the safe. "Hey, this is a false floor, something's underneath—" 

He cracked the fastenings that held the floor down, and pried the bottom of the safe up. Under the square of metal was a shallow bin, and in it sat Lex's laptop.

"Oh—I thought for sure Lionel stole that."

Clark nodded. "I'll bet we get some idea what happened to him now," he said. 

They set up the laptop, and turned it on. "So, what's his password?" Clark asked, and a smirk slowly spread across Adam's face. 

"Well, now. I imagine it's going to be a long night, Clark."

When they finally figured out the password, night had passed completely and the sun was on the tip of rising. Adam groaned, his jaw clicking with how wide he yawned. "Oh shit Clark. I _have_ to lie down—I'm about to fall asleep in the keyboard."

Clark nodded. "Okay. I forget sometimes how fragile you people are." 

Adam managed a tired, little snicker and grabbed Clark by the collar. "Shut up and come to bed with me. I don't want to sleep alone."

"Okay." Clark smiled and pushed back from the desk, let Adam drag him from the room, down the hall and into his bed. 

They curled around each other, nearly asleep, and for all Clark claimed he needed no sleep, his eyelids quivered and drooped. "Fragile, hunh?" he whispered, and Clark smiled without opening his eyes. 

Without thought, they fell into kissing, slowly, moving against each other in no particular way, just moving, and it was easy to do—it felt like fantasy, no more real than a dream, and they floated into it, let the dream catch them up. Adam inhaled the scent of Clark, spicy, a little hint of sweat and salt, a faint smell of sun-warmed grass. His mouth held a touch of sweet and spice….

He slid his tongue across Clark's, enjoying the slick, warm feeling, liking the way Clark curled his tongue against the roof of his mouth, it tickled and aroused at the same time. He locked his teeth around Clark's tongue and sucked like he was sucking dick, he used the same rhythms, same movements of his tongue—he flicked his tongue over the tip of Clark's. He pulled back, pressing kisses all over Clark's mouth, trailed kisses to Clark's ear, latched onto his earlobe and sucked until Clark groaned. Adam promised Clark if he ever got the chance, he'd do that to his dick. Adam swore that given the chance, he'd swallow Clark down until he choked, he wanted, _needed_ to choke on his fat dick, he wanted it in his ass, he wanted to feel Clark open him up and pound into him—Clark yelled and ground his hips against Adam, coming hard in his pants, making Adam come just as hard. He pushed into the heat of Clark's denim guarded crotch, and felt him still twitching. It felt amazing—for all of the few seconds it took to come crashing back to earth.

"I'm so sorry, but you made me come, what you were saying—it got me too hot." At first glance, Clark looked terribly flustered, adorable and so very hot, Adam thought—red cheeks and lips, huge green eyes, his pupils giant in the low light—and then he saw that Clark was also completely mortified, embarrassed, and… _sad._

"Clark, don't, please. It's all my fault. It's okay, Clark. We'll get a shower, s'okay…" Adam felt heavy with guilt. He pulled Clark's head to his shoulder, to comfort him, to hide the sight of his pained eyes. "It's going to be fine, it'll be okay, I swear." He stroked and stroked Clark until he finally relaxed, and then relaxed himself—he drifted off before he knew it. 

In the morning Clark was sitting on the edge of the bed, warm, shower-damp, stroking his thumb gently over Adam's knuckles. 

"I'm so sorry, Adam," he whispered. "I'm sorry that I keep getting close and then running away. It's just…I just… I'm an asshole. I'm really…"

Adam squeezed his hand back. "I told you a long time ago I'd never do anything you didn't want. I meant it. I love you Clark, I do. Don't want you to do something you're not sure of. I'm grown—I can survive it."

"It's just that I feel like there's a chance, a good chanced he's alive. I _know_ it. And—and I want all the firsts you talked about to be with him. If it's possible." He looked uncomfortable, but held Adam's hand a little tighter. "It hurts me, feeling this way…but Lex is. Everything. I just…"

"I love Lex, too. I understand. If it's true, if we have a chance to get him back—" Adam stopped, his breath catching in his throat "—then all I want is for him to be happy. And you. I want that so much for both of you."

Clark shook his head, "It's all so jumbled up in my mid—I love Lex so much, he's been my angel...but I love _you_ too. You've kept me from…from just losing everything, you know. Kept me together. And I want you, but I need Lex and maybe…maybe I can't ever have him. Maybe I'm crazy…" he slid his hand away from Adam's. "Maybe I need to stop waiting—"

"Clark. I believe you. I believe we're going to find him. And I understand you need to wait."

Clark fell back and groaned. "Adam, shit— _I_ don't understand anything. I don't even understand myself. Knowing we're possibly on the verge of a miracle…why am I doing this?"

"Because this is scary. Because this is…I don't know. Don't worry. We'll figure it all out, the both of us. Promise." He rolled off the bed, and slapped Clark's shoulder. "And now, we need to see what Lex left for us to find."

Clark nodded eagerly; Adam got it—he was more than thankful to direct his confused, jumbled thoughts somewhere else besides himself.

It was hours later before they stopped to eat and compare what they'd found. "Okay, only thing that stands out is some guy named Hartnett—that's the only appointment he had I didn't know about—and there's the fact that he planned to meet with him on the weekend."

Clark looked up from his notes--"Yeah? Why's that significant? So he left on a weekend—didn't he have other weekend appointments?"

"No—he saved the weekends for—for me. There would've had to have been a crisis before he'd do business on the weekend, and besides, as I remember, he'd promised me something special that…that weekend, to fly out together to the coast." 

"What?" Clark was wounded and just as immediately felt silly. But still, it hurt. "Oh—that's why you kept calling that day?" 

"I did? I remember only calling once."

"You were such a dick, you probably tried to block it out." Clark smiled gently at him, and Adam snorted. 

"Anyway, assassination of my personality aside—back to this Hartnett person. I found a last name only."

Clark glanced down at the pad next to his hand. "Okay, I found two or three references to the name in his papers, just the name and a date."

Adam leaned back and looked at Clark. "He didn't e-mail him…he didn't keep any correspondence, anyway. We could check against any Hartnett listed in Lexcorp records." He shrugged, looking doubtful. 

"All right, let's do that."

They came up with three Hartnetts at Lexcorp-- a secretary, and a mid level executive. The executive had only been at Lexcorp a few months before Lex disappeared—and her records were impeccable, as clean as a whistle, as was the secretary's. Neither worked for Lexcorp anymore, but there was nothing sinister there—they'd gone on to employment elsewhere, were easily tracked. The third Hartnett was a janitor, still working at Lexcorp, had been for many years. Zero return there as well.

Clark was frustrated. "Okay, so, it was a long shot. Besides, shouldn't this guy be a doctor? Lex was worried, you said…"

"If he was being consulted by Lex, more than likely he's a research scientist. As far as I know he had no doctor appointments." He looked up at Clark. "The guy I talked to about the broken bones was more or less his doctor, sort of Lex's bizarro version of a family doctor. The kind of guy who was paid not to ask or answer questions, y'know."

Clark raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like something…not particularly legal, Adam."

Adam shrugged. "Not everything Lex did was particularly legal… Um…hold on. I think I found something. Here's an article on Smallville's oddities—sent to him. From Met U."

"Yeah—I see it. Wait, there's a Hartnett here—" Clark's voice was excited and then he drooped a bit. "Was a Hartnett. He resigned." Clark jumped up and paced. "Okay—he hooked Lex, lured him out—resigned to work on him, I'll bet. So, where the hell would he go? Where could he take Lex?"

Adam bit his thumb as he thought. "How do we find him? Fuck, Clark, it's been two years. Two fucking years. The trail is cold as ice. Lex could be…"

_"No._ He's not. I told you."

Adam sat quiet and thought. "We need to find out why Hartnett resigned."

In response to an e-mail sent from LexCorp, they learned that he resigned, with the best wishes of the school, to work in the private sector. STAR Labs.

Clark said, "I've heard of them…wait, let me remember…Lex was on the phone, talking to his dad…and…STAR Labs deals with pediatric medicine. Why would Hartnett resign to work at STAR? What connection does it have with Lex? Isn't STAR LuthorCorp's?"

Adam sighed. "STAR Lab may have been connected to LuthorCorp, but I think they're a private research facility now. Let's look into STAR anyway; I have a feeling about this."

STAR Labs had employed Dr. Hartnett, but he was no longer with them, and they declined to give more information. 

Adam felt like they were butting up against walls at every turn. They were both getting frustrated, and a little desperate. Adam asked, "Clark…can you look around STAR, see if anything could lead us to him?" it was a dangerous move, and maybe a careless one, but Clark's feeling that time was running out for Lex was beginning to affect Adam, too. 

Clark agreed, and that evening found them in Metropolis.

STAR was exactly what it claimed to be and no more. As Adam waited, Clark slipped from floor to floor. He had always been more than half certain that Lionel was behind all of this. Clark drooped with disappointment. Now, it seemed positive he wasn't. He'd thought—hoped—that Lex might be trapped in some part of this building, that he would find that cell here and rescue him. Clark examined the labs, searched out anything that could contain hidden places, and still found nothing. Nothing but completely average, legal labs, clean, spotless…Lex was nowhere near here. 

The more Clark searched, the more frustrated and defeated he felt. He scanned the last floor left, and came up against a dark spot—a place he couldn't see through.

He sped to the area in the basement that read blank for him. Lead. Lead sheathed the doors, no doubt the walls were shielded too…he reached out and twisted the handle open and walked in. Barely feet inside the door, his stomach began to cramp, and cold sweat broke out over his body. He panted as he walked, each step making him more and more ill. He knew what was in that lab. It had nothing that he could imagine to do with medicine.

The few cameras he found, he avoided easily—they were just there, plainly visible. He scanned for bugs…it was clean. The security seemed strangely lax considering what the lab held, but the biohazard signs plastered over every available surface probably acted as its own security measure.

He rubbed at his watering eyes, forced himself to continue the search. He went through dozens and dozens of file cabinets…until one set of documents caught his interest in particular.

_'Catastrophic evolution'._ He scanned the papers, finding Hartnett's name. The theory was interesting…and connected to the radioactive meteorites that plagued Smallville, seemed to cause bizarre mutations in its people. They must have been exploring the possibilities in the rock; maybe even looking for some beneficial applications, but there was nothing in any of the research that equaled a missing Lex. He checked through the rest of the files. There was nothing that hinted at human research in any of the files. Clark sighed in relief. If that had been the case, he would have had to do something—and he just wasn't sure what he would have done.

Clark did have some success—he came back to Adam with the information and an address. Hartnett was reachable and that equaled a step forward for Clark. He wanted to leave at that moment, now, before a minute more passed—he wanted to get to Lex.

Adam disagreed. "No—I know you're impatient, I can really understand that, Clark—but there's a business that needs me, and yes, school coming up, for the both of us. You need to go home, Clark. It's been forever since you've been home."

'Why?" Clark glowered at Adam. He pushed against him. "Why do I have to go home, I want to go to the city—now." Clark wanted to intimidate Adam. He could, he was stronger, he was unbeatable, and Adam was weak, human, he would be so easy to hurt…Clark sagged, stomach roiling, feeling drained…defeated. Stupid. It was stupid and—and wrong—to even think for a minute that he could hurt Adam. Hurt _anyone_ like that.

Adam pushed Clark gently away. "Why? Because when we get Lex back, I want to hand him Lexcorp whole, and you too. Understand?" He smiled. "I'll call you; let you know when to come."

Clark frowned. He doubted Adam really believed like he did. If he did, he'd be on his way to find that Hartnett guy right now… "Fine, damn it! When? When will you call me?"

"Tomorrow, I promise. Just let me get with Harry, and I'll call you, all right? And please—go _home,_ you hear me?"

"All right!" Clark stormed off, so angry, but not questioning Adam's decision.

His parents were at the kitchen table when he came home. They looked startled to see him. He sneered and made for the stairs. Sure they were surprised to see him—they'd probably forgotten they had a son. Or were trying to forget…

His mother called out as he went past them.

"Clark."

He thought about walking past them anyway, but he turned. They were holding hands across the table. _Well, wasn't that sweet._ He snorted. They were looking at him, staring at him like he was some kind of freak. It sent a flare of anger through him so strong it made his gut twist. "What?"

"Clark, we—Clark," his dad started and fell silent. He stared at the table, the overhead light throwing part of his face into shadow, washing out the rest and—and his dad looked so-- _old._ So tired. His mother spoke up, and her voice was a little shaky, unsure. Something swept through Clark, dousing the fury in him like a bucket of ice water to the face. Clark shook, slowly backed away.

"We want to talk to you, Clark." His mom—she looked like a stranger—too thin, too old, too— _scared._

"No, no—" Clark shook his head. "I can't—I can't talk to you now." He backed farther out of the kitchen, his emotions a wild tumble, confusion and fear of--of something he couldn't identify and the confusion, the uncertainty was making him angry again—with his parents, it was the only thing he understood anymore. 

"Clark, please…" They turned to him now; both of them, and the force of...whatever it was that was on their minds beat against him, smothered him. He had to get away.

"If you want to tell me to clear out of here for good, fine—I'll leave, I'm leaving, but right now, I can't _talk_ to you."

He ran upstairs and into his room, threw himself inside, slamming the door behind him. When he heard footsteps on the stair, he tore the window open, leaped out, and hit the ground running.

Clark could see the Lexcorp helicopter taking off from where he hid, in the shelter of the still untamed scrub along the rear of Lex's property. When it was less than a black dot on the horizon, he walked back into the castle, back into his room, and rolled up in blankets heavy with the scent of Adam and himself. How could Adam just stop looking for Lex like that? How could he wait? How could he want to wait?

Clark felt betrayed--as minutes slid by, he felt more and more angry, and more alone. They were so fucking close, so _close—_ how could Adam claim to love Lex like Clark did, and not move this instant?

He curled up on his side, shoved his face into the pillows and waited desperately for rest that wouldn't come. Finally, he rolled out of bed, dressed quickly and ran out the back way again, across the cleared helipad area, and headed as straight as possible to Metropolis. Fuck Adam and fuck waiting—he'd waited long enough.

He got a map from a gas station convenience store at the last exit before the city, and memorized it before letting the wind tear it out of his hand as he ran.

In minutes, he was in the heart of the city, searching for the address he'd found. From the broad avenue he'd stopped on, he could see the curved glass wave that was LuthorCorp Tower, knew that not too far beyond it was Lex's penthouse, where Adam was. And somewhere hidden in this city was Lex. Adam might not care, but _he_ did and he was going to find Lex and bring him home where he belonged. 

He found Hartnett's apartment building. He looked up at the plain brick exterior and took a deep breath. His prey was on the fifth floor of this place—he was going to go up there and shake Lex loose, get him back—whatever it took. He ran up the granite stairs and was about to push through the leaded glass doors before he hesitated. He listened hard for a moment, just in case…it was ridiculous to imagine Lex might be here, but still….

He was about to push on through when a familiar voice stopped him. He stumbled in shock—Adam. Adam was there—alone—on the fifth floor. Clark concentrated: he could hear Adam's demand for information about Lex, and a response from an unfamiliar voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Luthor has never had contact with me personally—he expressed some interest in certain of the lab's research but that was all. Now, if you don't mind, I have appointments…"

"Lex mentioned you by name—you sent him material—there's more that you're not telling me."

"Ow—get your hands off me, before I call the police--"

"Call away, asshole. The Luthor name is as much as an umbrella for me as it was for Lex. Hell, I've never even tested how much I can get away with—"

Clark sprinted up the stairs to stop Adam from doing anything he might regret, but he had to grin a little. He could picture the look on Adam's face, knew how scary he could look when he wanted to.

"Are—are you threatening me? You don't know who you're interfering with—I know people—"

"You _know_ people? I _am_ people, mother fucker—I can make you disappear."

Clark was outside the door, about to break in when the man laughed. "You've got nothing. There's not a thing you can do to hurt me, no way you can touch me."

Clark broke the lock and strolled in. "Oh, we can touch you all right."

Adam was standing over Hartnett, who was sitting entirely too comfortably in an overstuffed chair, obviously too stupid to be worried—yet.

Adam jerked around and fixed Clark with a furious look, but then…grinned slowly. He turned back to the man. "I think you should tell us everything you can about Lex and what happened to him, and where he is."

"I told you, there was no contact between myself and—yow!" 

Clark pulled him out of his chair, off his feet by a hand around his neck. "I'm not like Lex if that's what you're thinking. I'm so much harder to hurt." He squeezed and Hartnett's feet kicked and jerked, eyes bulging with the effort to breathe, before Clark let him onto his toes, just enough for him to be able to draw a little air into his lungs.

"You can't do this, I'll…I'll…" he croaked, and Clark tightened his grip, lifted until Hartnett's toes cleared the ground again. 

Adam called out conversationally, "Don't hurt him, Clark--unless you need to."

Clark nodded. He licked his lips, gave Hartnett a little grin, and Adam noted how wet and white and really, really…sharp Clark's teeth were. 

Hartnett's eyes were wide with fear now, when Clark set him down again, he gagged out, "I can't—I can't talk about it—I swear they'll kill me!"

Clark picked up a small marble globe from the table next to the chair, a paperweight. He held it under Hartnett's nose, rolled it along his fingertips. "You shouldn't worry about them, you should worry about me." He ground the globe to bits in his fist and shook the dust from his hand, reached out for Hartnett again. 

"No, no! They'll do worse than kill me, you don't understand!" Clark growled and broke Hartnett's thumb. 

Adam was shocked. He'd never have thought that Clark was capable of hurting someone, it didn't seem to be in him to hurt, despite how scary he could look …and yeah, for a moment, Clark looked as shocked as he did, but just for a moment. He flushed red with anger and shook Hartnett until he staggered. "Where is Lex," Clark shouted, "Where are you keeping him?"

The echoes of his shout bounced around the room, Adam held his hands over his ears and Hartnett's eyes were squeezed tight. He was screaming, "He's dead, he's dead, please, I don't know anymore!"

Clark took Hartnett's hand and slowly squeezed it in his; Adam swore he heard bones creak—"Where. Is. He."

"He's dead," the man screamed, and the scream spiraled up and up an up until Adam threw himself at Clark, pushing and shoving at him until Clark dropped the man's hand and backed away from Adam and Hartnett. He was panting harshly, his skin had gone sickly green…he was shivering. Before Adam could do any more, Hartnett screamed, "The program was ended, we got all we could from him, the Patron's man took him to the desert with him—the body's probably somewhere in Mexico—"

Adam stood. "No." _No. Clark said Lex was alive._

Hartnett babbled on, "I've seen what Hati does to his—his toys. The Patron gave the subject to him, and he's dead now. It was months ago!"

Clark surged forward, "You're lying—it's not true," but he turned to face Adam when Adam pulled at him. 

"Let it go. Let's go." Clark looked unhappy, about to argue with him. Adam swallowed and said hoarsely, "Please, Clark, now."

Clark yanked out of Adam's grip. "All right. All right. Don't, okay—don't." Clark glared at Hartnett. "If you tell anyone, you won't have to worry about them hurting you, I will. And it will be worse than anything you can imagine and it will last forever. I know what you did to Lex. I saw. Everything."

Hartnett looked like he was going to die right at that moment. "You—you—" 

He stuttered to a stop as Clark snarled, "Remember."

Clark pushed Adam out of the apartment, into the hallway. Adam stumbled, Clark's arms around him kept him from falling. Adam moaned against Clark's chest. "He's dead, Clark."

"No, no, he can't be. He isn't, promise…"

"He's dead, shut up shut up shut up." Adam hissed, and slapped Clark so hard he staggered a little, and tore himself out of Clark's arms. Adam raced down the stairs, ignoring Clark's frantic shouts for him.

Clark found Adam in the street in front of the building, staring at nothing—he was cracking, in a glacial way. Clark shook him, softly calling his name. "Adam, please. Don't go away. I need you." But Adam just silently folded up, bit by bit, quietly breaking apart.

Clark panicked. Adam couldn't leave him like that. He couldn't make it without Adam. Home—they'd both be better, once they were home again. Clark scooped Adam up and ran.

Halfway home, he ran off the highway and stopped in the dark shadows of the factories miles outside of Smallville. He shook Adam gently. "Hey, Adam, Adam," terrified he'd get no answer, that Adam really was gone that deep inside, like Lex did sometimes, now.

Adam took a deep breath, and shuddered, coughed. He folded over, hands on his knees and head hanging down.  
"I told you. I told you he was dead." Clark wrung his hands and worried as he watched Adam coughing—it took him a moment to realize that Adam wasn't coughing, he was crying, or struggling not to cry. He speaking, moaning words into the fist he had pressed against his mouth. "I hate you. I hate you. You brought him back and now he's gone again."

When Clark tried to put his arms around him, Adam yanked away, a feral scream ripping out of him. Clark was sobbing himself, and tried to hold Adam, but he fought free of Clark with animal ferocity. Clark was afraid—Adam wouldn't listen, he wouldn't stop. He was going to hurt himself, so Clark tightened his grip around him, and jumped—up and far, he jumped, and miles later, jumped again. He wanted with all his might to go home—he needed to be home; he needed Adam to be safe. He felt warm all over, light, he felt hollow—his body told him there was no connection between him and the ground, and the only weight he felt was the weight of Adam in his arms.

He was moving faster and faster; the wind's whistling passage became a shriek and then—

He was—he was _flying._ Flying! It was horrible, and wonderful, and it was the most frightening thing that had ever happened to him. Below him was the interstate, a black ribbon that snaked across the ground. He knew at some point that home was on it. He'd just follow it until something looked familiar.

He reached Smallville in what felt like seconds. He found himself dropping lower as he calmed, and he angled towards the outskirts of town—home at last.

Clark landed—crashed—feet first in the front yard of the Kent farmhouse. Dirt fountained up and rained down again, all around the shallow gash his landing ripped through the yard. He came to a stop, curled over a shaking Adam in his arms. He didn't know what to do next. "Adam, please," he whimpered. He needed help—he had no where else to turn. He cried out, "Mom!" He screamed it again, panic making him desperate. "Mom!"

The screen door flew open and his mother burst out onto the porch, wild-eyed and terrified. "Clark!"

"Mom," he dropped to his knees, still holding Adam tight against his chest, "can you help me, please?" his voice shook with the effort not to cry again, but he felt hot tracks snake down his face.

"My God, Clark—Jonathan! Jonathan!"

His dad managed to pry Adam out of his stiff arms; his dad and his mom carried Adam into the house.

Clark was alone, quivering on the front lawn, kneeling in the hole he'd made,. His head was resting against the backs of his hands and his fingers were sunk into the dirt. Wave after wave of cold swept him—probably a reaction to the _holy fuck, I flew_ flying. He lifted his head away from his hands, turned slightly and threw up—not much, Clark couldn't even remember the last time he ate—at the moment, he considered that a good thing. Dirt and mud _and_ vomit would have been more than he could handle. He began snickering and then crying, tears he couldn't stop even when he felt a warm weight drop around his shoulders. "Dad…"

"Come inside, son, come inside."

Clark let himself be led into the warmth of the kitchen, saw his mother spooning a little hot tea into Adam's mouth, like he was a baby. Her hand was on his head, and she was stroking the sweat-wet strands of hair back from his face. His dad settled Clark on a chair and arranged the blanket that had magically appeared around him, so he could hold the mug of sweet hot tea shoved into his hands. 

"Son. What can we do?"

He stared, open-mouthed, at his dad. "You'd help me? Help us?"

His dad nodded. "We…we love you, son," he said, and his eyes filled with tears. "We miss you, son, we tried to tell you—but—we didn't try hard enough, I guess."

His dad put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. When Clark felt the small cool hands of his mother on the back of his neck and found himself crying again. 

"I don't need your help," Clark sobbed, "Adam does. Help him, please. I mean, unless you want us to leave because…because…"

"Doesn't matter anymore, Clark. All that matters is you. Let us help you, both of you." His mom was crying too, her shoulders were shaking with the force of it. Clark wanted to say something that would make her feel better, that would let them know that he loved them too—but he'd spent a long, long time shoving those words down. One miracle a night was all he had in him. 

His dad's hand tightened on his shoulder and he said, "It's okay, son. If you want us to, we can help…." 

He nodded, too ragged to speak. Maybe…maybe he could start there.

"I can do the same thing I did to find Hartnett in Metropolis. I can work the desert in a grid, until I find something out of the ordinary."

They all sat together at the kitchen table, had been there since Jonathan finished his morning chores. Between Clark and Adam, they'd explained what had happened, not only in the last few months, but what they knew about what happened two years ago. Now, they stared at Clark, all discussion of what had happened the last year tabled while they tackled the problem of Lex.

"And how long will that take you?" Jonathan asked.

"God, I don't know—" Clark turned to Adam. "But we do know that I'm faster and stronger than anyone and I can hear and see farther than any human, and I can go for days without sleep or food or water…" he ignored the way his parents gasped at Clark breaking the cardinal rule and kept his attention on Adam. "And I can come back every day if you want me to, but it'd be better if I just called. I can do this—I know what I'm looking for—broken ribs and all. I can find him." _and I'll find him alive, I know it._

Jonathan spoke, softly, as if he was afraid to interrupt. "These people—we don't know what they could have done to Lex. You have to be prepared to never find him, son."

Clark gave his dad a long, searching look. "No I don't. I'll find him and bring him home."

"Clark…for the last few weeks, you haven't really slept. And you keep saying that you're afraid Lex's time is running out—you haven't been having those dreams, have you? You don't really have anything to guarantee that he's alive." Adam reached out and wrapped his fingers around Clark's. "You don't really know anymore, do you?"

Martha spoke up. "What dreams?"

Adam spoke right over Clark's automatic response of, "Nothing."

"We think Clark had—has—a psychic connection with Lex." Adam waited for the Kents to argue such a thing was impossible, but they just nodded, and why shouldn't they accept it? Hell, yesterday, their son blew a hole in their front yard by landing there—after a flight from Metropolis under his own power. How the hell was psychic ability any stranger than that? He snuck a look at Clark, and glanced back at the Kents. Being gay—at last it had to seem inconsequential.

Clark scowled angrily at Adam. "I haven't had them lately, but that doesn't mean anything. He's alive, and I'm going to bring him home and you'll see. When he's back," Clark snapped at his parents, "we'll be together, like we should be." He stormed out of the room. 

Martha and Jonathan apologized to Adam and he smirked a little. "Oh, that's just Clark. It's nothing I haven't seen all summer." He took a bit of satisfaction in seeing that his barb was heard and understood. It had to do with the fact that they never tried to enlist his help in recovering their son, and nothing to do with the fact that Clark just wrote Adam off, out loud and to everyone.

The Kents blushed and stammered, "Oh, of course not, right…um. We thought…that you two…" 

They were trying, hard, and Adam felt a tiny sting of shame, a little pity for them. "No. Not really. That's not to say that I don't care deeply for your son—I love him. But he's not mine to love. It's up to Lex what happens next."

The Kents nodded; confused but eager to please—hell, Adam himself was confused. He had no idea what was going to happen. What would he do, could he live knowing he was going to lose every reason he _had_ for living? Clark…Lex…the universe was a bitch, that much he was sure about.

Clark tossed and turned on the sofa, glaring into the dark. He was angry at Adam, angry that his parents wouldn't let them sleep together—which was so stupid, they'd slept together almost all summer, and it wasn't like they were going to _do_ anything. What fucking business was it of theirs anyway? And mostly, he was angry at Adam for agreeing. It wasn't even like they demanded—they'd suggested. They asked, and nicely, because they were still afraid he was going to take off again. They were going to be walking on eggs around him for a while and did Adam let him take advantage of it? No—stupid Adam just smiled and agreed with every thing they said.

And there Adam was, sleeping upstairs in the soft comfortable bed, and meanwhile _he_ was stuck on the lumpy old sofa, forced to listen to the fridge motor wheeze and gag, and cats out in the yard, fucking at the top of their lungs. 

Asshole.

He huffed and flung himself to his side. Fine. He didn't care. Tomorrow, he'd be gone anyway. He wasn't going to come back until he found Lex no matter what. Lex was out there in the desert somewhere, he knew it. Screw them—they didn't really care. As far as he was concerned, they could all go to hell.

"Oh crap. Oh geez." He didn't mean that. He blushed and punched his pillow up and tried to lie down again. All right. He was being an asshole. Nerves—being nervous brought out the jerk in him. He was too strung out to sleep. He just didn't want to be alone. But what if…what if Adam agreed with his mom and dad because he didn't want to be around him?

He shook his head. No. He was just on edge, and he needed—needed to be close to someone and Adam wouldn't mind. Clark grabbed his pillow and snuck up the stairs, headed for his room. 

The door was open, so he walked in, found Adam awake and watching him. "Hi."

"Hi." Clark shuffled into the room, head down a little, looking up through his bangs to see if Adam was mad that he was sneaking into his room, waking him up. 

"There's a sleeping bag on the floor," he said.

"Yeah," Clark said. "I see."

"Your mom left it…you're a big baby, you know?"

Clark grinned and threw his pillow down, slipped into the sleeping bag and smiled up at Adam. "Unh-hunh."

"Good night, Clark." 

"I love you too."

_He drifted off slowly, sinking down into darkness. A light began to glow, a light he followed until it was golden and bright. Turning in the light, he found he was standing in the middle of miles and miles of sand, sand shifting this way and that, long swells of golden sand and heat, and nothing else. The sun beat steadily down on him as he walked and walked. He called Lex's name, over and over until his voice was hoarse_ ….

Clark was flying his grid. High as he was above the desert floor, still the sun beat down on him, so hot that even he felt it, his skin was warm and red… he couldn't imagine humans in this heat, their delicate skin under the relentless glare of the sun.

Delicate…at least, he knew Lex had been safe, even comfortable, from the look of his last dream. Maybe…that was why he hadn't had dreams lately. Maybe they'd stopped hurting him, were being nice to him. Maybe….

Clark angled downward until he touched down on the desert floor and felt a little tug of pride that he didn't dig a trench again. He was learning to handle this newest example of otherness. This new thing, flying—he had to admit that it was seriously cool. He grinned a little before the weight of what he was doing swallowed his smile again. He sighed, dropped his head and concentrated. 

He could hear the squeak of shifting sand, the sound of small things moving under the surface of it. He heard nothing more than that, no matter how he concentrated, there was nothing else to hear. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself skyward, rolling slightly as he did, staring up at the blue that seemed to go on forever and ever.

Up here, he could admit to himself that, yeah—he was scared. Yeah, there was a part of him that was afraid that Lex was—was—it wasn't just that he hadn't dreamed of him in days and days. He didn't have that little feeling, that touch of Lex he'd with him all the time before, waking or sleeping. That feeling like Lex was touching him feather light and soft inside. He felt more alone now than he'd ever felt before, inside, where it hurt so much. He rose higher and higher, beyond the point where the sky was blue, to where it began to bleed into black, and stars were everywhere above him. His skin was cold, and tiny crystals of ice were forming in his hair, clinging to his lashes--it felt good. Clark rolled to look down, and under him he could see the whole world.

It made him cry; looking down on the world this way, this fragile bowl covered with lonely people, people who were hurting—Clark wiped his face and shuddered—people who hurt. He looked a moment more, and it didn't even occur to him to be frightened or amazed at what he'd done. Here he was, floating on the very edge of space and—it didn't matter, all he really cared about, right now, was Lex. 

Clark spread his arms wide and dropped back to the world, let himself go—

One way or another—today was the day he'd find Lex. He was certain of it.

Lex was prodded into what looked like an examination room. He looked around, not really curious, just—waiting.

There was a table in the center of the room shaped like a wide cross, with restraints for wrists and ankles at each leg of the cross. He was pushed towards it and pulled across it, the two attendants who'd led him into the room buckled him to the table and moved away to stand like soldiers on either side of him.

A stray thought surfaced, making him giggle…stretched out like this, on the peculiar table…how Catholic, he thought, he was about to be crucified like Saint Andrew…

Morgan appeared in the doorway with Mr. Hati standing respectfully a step behind. Smiling kindly, Morgan petted Lex briefly. "I'm so sorry Alexander, but your father…" Morgan shook his head, a look of fond exasperation on his face. "He can be so willful. At any rate, our association comes to an end now." He looked at Mr. Hati. "I'd like to be back in the city by morning—clean up when you're finished here. And don't forget to turn off the lights when you leave."

They both chuckled. Mr. Hati said, "Yes, of course, Father," and closed the door behind Morgan. He grinned at Lex. "Just an old joke between us."

Mr. Hati walked around the table Lex was spread across, trailing his fingers over Lex's skin as he walked. Lex watched him without interest. He was waiting for what would come next, certain that it would be nasty, brutal and not much different than what he'd suffered before—just this time, he wouldn't walk out of the room. 

"Last game, Alexander. Last game." He waited for one of the attendants to roll a metal cart to the table. Lex took a deep breath, let it out and closed his eyes. Mr. Hati tapped him on the cheek. "Ah-ah. You need to keep your eyes open. I can help you do that if you wish." 

Lex shook his head quickly, his disinterest dissolving away and fear rushing in to take its place. He looked at the gleaming array of metal instruments on the spotless white cloth. He recognized most—there were some he thought he'd rather be dead before find out what they did—

Mr. Hati sliced a long, long gash, from the base of Lex's throat to his navel, shallow, barely splitting the skin. Lex jerked, and groaned as the blade was levered under his skin—a million years in hell passed as it was yanked back and forth, lifting skin away from muscle. Lex arched, bit down on his lip so hard, blood poured down his chin. He jerked against the restraints, whipped his head back and forth in his fight to stay silent. 

Mr. Hati stopped and stroked Lex's forearm. "You can scream—there is no one for you to be brave for, and I rather like the sound."

Lex panted, his sides heaved and he ground his teeth together, but that man was right. There was no point in trying to keep what he wanted from him—he was going to get it sooner or later anyway. 

The next time the knife went in, time compressed. Every action was intensified, was crystal clear, and happened over and over, endless loop and he screamed, screamed his head off. He jerked and howled and Mr. Hati approved. The knife slid in through muscle, and glanced off bone— Mr. Hati levered a sliver of flesh out and chewed on it thoughtfully as he examined the items on the tray. Lex screamed until his head pounded and black stars bloomed in his eyesight. The inside of his throat felt as flayed as his body, he screamed until—

 

\--screamed again when water sprayed hard as needles against his flayed skin and woke him, screamed when it stopped. Blood sluiced into the drains sunk in the tiles, the attendants swept squeegees around the floor, wiped the pink water off the surface of the table and off of Lex, then stepped back so Mr. Hati could continue.

"I like to have a clear view of what I'm doing," he smiled gently. Lex quivered as his body tried to heal what was happening as fast as it was happening. Time seemed to skip wildly—he closed his eyes and opened them, and the room was spotless, the smell of blood was gone, he was alone—he wondered briefly if what had gone before was hallucination or was this moment the hallucination? The knife slid in again as answer, a hot burning tug, he heard the edge of the blade grind against his bone and—

Fractured, time, in bits and pieces, it—and clearly he felt, hot and by turns so cold and tasted blood in his mouth, the water dried and he felt clammy—

That man leaned over and kissed him, hummed as if he tasted something delicious. "You know, after we finish with you, we have a new project. An ex-employee…" he chuckled, "An ex-everything now, I suppose, gave us interesting information about you…why didn't you tell us about your other meteor affected friend?"

Lex had no doubt what friend he meant. 

"After we're finished here, we'll collect him, too. I'm looking forward to the fun."

And that, Lex thought, was about enough. 

 

Time stretched out of shape, soft and sticky as hot taffy and filled him with—a good feeling. It was a very good feeling.

He looked inside himself and was surprised. He looked outside himself and was…amazed. 

It was all so _simple._

Lex thought about how simple _everything_ was, so, so simple. When the bolts holding the table together expressed a desire to fall, he let them. They unscrewed themselves, trembling little bits of metal he could feel with his mind—too slow. Faster. Bolts flew out of the table, dropped to the floor click after click—he shook his head.  
 _Too slow._

He sat up as his restraints fell to dust. He thought about how that felt and how there was a…a _Thing_ holding everything together—he felt that Thing. He felt It holding the air back—he felt It under his feet, holding the earth together—he felt It inside _himself_ and saw so clearly how It held him together….

Lex looked at the attendant foolish enough not to run, foolish enough to still be within his reach. Put his hand on the poor fool's arm and felt the Thing holding him together—he stopped it, and the attendant blew into a fine red mist, coating the walls and floor.

Lex was the center of a whirlwind of metal, vinyl, paper, blood…Mr. Hati smiled a confused smile, and slowly backed away from Lex, backed up until he was pressed against the slightly slimy tiled wall. Smiled as Lex reached out to silence the screaming attendant—the one who'd been smart enough to try to run. Lex twitched the Thing inside and it unraveled the attendant, skin dropped off muscle like wet sheets, veins slid down to heap around his feet like cooked spaghetti, and muscles turned to loops and strands of meat and organs slithered out of disintegrating bone...it was a loud disintegration. Lex watched it all fascinated. _Fascinated._

His hands were spread out before him, and he stared at them searched the lines and whorls of his fingerprints, the pores, the minute sparkle of something in the creases of his flesh—he studied himself, looking for the difference. He looked around the pink room. Locked eyes with that man, the only one still a whole man.

That man stared at him, expressionless—the whirlwind collected bits from all over the room, slowly twirled and drifted towards the man. Bits of sharp metal lodged in his soft flesh—the man's lips peeled back in a pained snarl—or maybe it was a smile. Lex shrugged. _Hard to tell with that one._

"Last game." Lex's voice sounded odd, he thought. Hollow and…he wasn't sure his lips had moved at all. What, he wondered, did it sound like to Hati? Mr. Hati, yes. Mr. Hati….

Everything was so unreal…Lex blinked and it felt like it took a million years, when his eyes opened again, that man was bleeding from a million tiny wounds. 

"Too simple," Lex said.

Mr. Hati was whining now, but he needed to be screaming. Lex smiled. He'd fix that.

"My hand is so far inside you, can you feel it?" Lex whispered, and imagined he laughed. "That's a joke."

His hand twisted inside that man, feeling the weight of organs, the warmth of blood. Heat rose in his body, filling him—sweat ran down his back and legs and dripped to the floor. Lex slid his hand out and stroked his finger over a quivering arm and as he did, a fine red mist rose up like a little cloud and hovered above the skin. Lex liked the effect, so he did it again and again. He pulled an edge of torn skin up and it unraveled like knitting, falling away—where Lex touched, his fingertips left red and white blisters against Mr. Hati's flesh and he screamed—shrieked. 

Lex was disappointed. Doing this didn't give him the satisfaction he thought it would. He waved his hand and wandered away from the table. Mr. Hati rose upright, floated off the table and out onto the floor. He danced in the center of his own white and red whirlwind—a fine fog red as roses swirled around him, as he danced, he got thinner, danced and got thinner….

Lex pondered that lack of satisfaction. He reached out, pushed a bit of his mind into Mr. Hati's and was surprised at the depth of pain he felt—amazed at his desire to hang onto life, no matter how horrific it had become.   
Interesting.

He reached out farther and felt Morgan in his office, glanced over his thoughts, he watched staff clean the building, the apartments, watched his own room being dismantled, and a new one being stocked…interesting. Lex blew the wall out of the room he was in—reached along the Thing that held all of it together and plucked at It—incidentally exploding most living things in the building. He was burning now, inside and out, the tiles under his feet melting and running like water. He walked out through the wall, and made the building into a fireball, and made sure Mr. Hati felt it as long as possible.

He considered unraveling the Thing that held him together—It twitched so interestingly when he touched It—how easy it would be to unravel the Thing that held the earth together, he thought…people were monsters, they truly deserved to die.

He'd walk a bit first, think about it, before he did it….

Lex walked out into the desert, leaving glass footprints with every step with every step he took …he walked and burnt and healed, his skin peeled and fell away in sooty streamers, under that new pink skin formed and burnt, did it again and again, until he began using himself for fuel to sustain the healing, over and over, until his skin was black and gnarled, muscle dried on his skeleton. There was no sensation—no smell, no sound, no feeling, no sight. 

All around him, in waves, things died—

A day, two days, weeks, months…time had no meaning, no place here. In the blackness, he heard Mr. Hati mocking him, laughing, whispering. Lex shook his head and kept walking…his father teased him, laughed at him, officially disowned him—again. He shut his lash-less lids against the blackness and walked on, on, on….

Clark walked next to him silently for miles and miles before turning to him and saying, "You're disgusting—" 

Lex faltered, took a deep breath of nothing, walked on in the dark "—saw what you did—it turned my stomach."

Lex stopped. He turned towards Clark, butt it was Adam looking back at him with sad eyes, who said solemnly, "It's true." Lex yelled for Adam to shut up, reached for and pulled at the Thing—pulled and—

The bubble around him collapsed, sight, sensation, and the horrible burning heat rushed in, closed in on him, and he screamed, physically, mentally, every cell, every particle of him screamed a long, long shattering scream— a tornado, a twister of sand and scrub and—things flew up into the air—and exploded.

Miles away, high above the ground, Clark saw a red and black cloud swirl on the horizon, grow fat, collapse on itself and sink away—he heard his name, screamed so loud, so desperately—

Clark slapped his hands over his ears but the scream still echoed, loud and painfully inside his skull, until he thought it would deafen him. He yelled back, _LEX!_

And thought he heard faintly, "Clark—help me. Kill me."

Dropping through the clouds to float above the desert floor, he could see footprints of glass, leading from a huge, collapsed hole in the ground. Acrid clouds of dust and dirt and smoke rose upward, the smell of blood even from that far below assaulting him. Under the creak and crack of cooling metal and stone, Clark picked up the distinct sound of a heartbeat, so very slow and slowing with each passing moment. He turned toward it, rushed in the direction.

At the end of the trail of destruction, a blackened skeleton laid curled on the ochre sand, hands under its head like a sleeping baby, still and quiet. The beat quieted, stuttered a few times, stopped.

"No. No. No, no, no—" Clark could feel the word tumbling out of his mouth, over and over--he landed; sand spraying away from under his feet as he stumbled and lurched to a stop in front of the shape huddled on the ground.

Lex was curled on his side; his skin blackened, red and raw in spots. He looked like…a pharaoh. An ancient mummy, sucked dry, withered by the centuries.

Clark dropped down next to the lifeless husk and his hands hovered uncertainly over it. "Lex?" tears fell, "Lex, Lex Lex, please…"

And its eyes opened—glared red from the sunken sockets.

_help me._ His heartbeat climbed wildly, before slowing again to a barely perceptible thump.

Clark dropped backwards with a silent scream, but even as his conscious mind was trying to deal with Lex's resurrection, he was covering him, ripping off his shirt and laying it over him, pitifully useless protection against everything that had already happened to Lex and then, Clark was flying, out of the desert, streaking towards home and safety and….

Clark cried out, devastated. There was no way; there was no way Lex was going to survive this….


	4. An apology and a note

Obviously, this is *not* chapter four. Please forgive this non-update update , but I feel I owe whoever is still interested in this story an explanation and an apology. I hit a massive stone wall writing-wise, even on this story which is a *completed* one, oy. I'm so very sorry to have kept you waiting this long! I'm working on it right *now*, and hope to have the last chapter done by Monday at the latest. For those of you who haven't thrown up their hands and said, "Fagetaboutit!" , thank you, you are incredibly patient. More patient than me, for sure! :)

roxy


	5. part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the actual chapter 4. Thanks so much, you all, for being so patient. Strap on your seatbelts--this one is a bumpy ride. ;)

He landed lightly as possible in back of the yellow farmhouse, holding Lex carefully. Adam came out to meet him, anger and worry plain on his face.

"Clark, what the hell is happening?" he snapped. "We haven't heard from you in days—your parents were worried sick, and I was scared shitless." 

Clark could see the anxious faces of his parents from the kitchen window. He shivered, forced himself not to hold Lex too tightly.

Adam came closer, and Clark took a step back.

"Clark…what in the hell is _that?"_ His features twisted in revulsion for a moment, and Clark curled over Lex, snarling at Adam. 

"Get away—get away from us—" Clark gathered Lex up and moving faster than Adam could even begin to think, leaped away again. 

 

Adam was frozen in place, watching Clark disappear as the Kents rushed forward, both of them shouting questions at him. 

"Where's he going? What's wrong? What was that thing he brought?"

Adam reached out to them, a sick feeling washing over him… "Lex."

Clark took Lex to the only safe place he could imagine—the mansion. He set Lex up in his bedroom. Lex was silent, twisted—to all outside appearances, lifeless. It was only the occasional beat of his heart that kept Clark from losing his mind.

He ran to the bathroom, returned with a wet towel to lay over Lex's blackened skin. Almost immediately the skin cracked, and to his horror, when Clark pulled the towel back, it took the cracked skin with it, revealing fragile, pink _new_ skin. It was healing as he watched. 

Clark trembled, weak with daring to hope. He let his eyes look beneath the surface of Lex's skin, and watched it happen…skin being frantically rebuilt, the cells knitting wildly, trying to rebuild what was lost. It was impossible, it was terrifying, but it _was_ happening. 

Lex shivering, pained moans issuing non-stop from his raw lips drove Clark nearly frantic.

"What can I do, Lex? How can I help?" He bit his lip and gently as possible pulled back the shrunken, blackened skin— _like a shell,_ Clark thought a bit hysterically, _I'm peeling Lex free—_ he removed all the ashy strips, the flaking bits, until most was gone. Lex revealed was pale, pale pink, his skin crisscrossed with thin, blue veins. Slow waves racked him, shuddering and moaning lowly as Clark worked on him. 

Clark was so intent on brushing Lex's baby fine skin that his voice startled him—he hadn't expected him to be—had hoped he wasn't—conscious yet. His voice was a barely-audible, dry rattle of sound, like leaves in the wind. "Sleep…sleep…." he murmured, so faint that it was only Clark's enhanced hearing that let him catch what Lex was saying.

Clark nodded, yes, all right; he really did want to sleep, sleep would be so, so good. He'd wait until he woke up again, then he and Lex would figure out what to do together, because Lex would be fine soon, he'd be all right again. Lex was unbeatable. 

Clark leaned against the headboard closed his eyes and rested a fingertip lightly on Lex's ankle, taking care not to hurt him with his touch.

Clark woke and he wasn't sure if he'd been asleep for minutes or hours or days. There was a tray on the nightstand next to him. It held a cold mug of tea and a little pile of slightly dried-out sandwiches. He felt a little calmer at the sight. There was a thick blanket tucked around his knees, but nothing at all on Lex, who was now a brighter, less delicate pink and skeletally thin, so terribly thin that Clark could see every bone, see every pulse point throb—and hear his constant tiny whispers, tiny moans of pain.

Clark cried quietly as he could at how Lex suffered in his sleep. And he slept, Lex slept for days, out to the world.

Between himself, Adam and his parents, they managed to get a little water in Lex, and every so often he woke enough to take some broth before he was quickly out again….

Clark and Adam argued constantly about sending for Toby. Adam wanted Lex to be looked after by a doctor, he wanted him in a hospital. "He's a Luthor, we can buy anonymity, we can buy a fucking hospital. He'll be safe, Clark—and maybe, they can find out what happened to him—is happening to him."

Clark refused—he felt, deep down, that letting anyone know that Lex was alive was a mistake. Clark couldn't explain why he felt like that—something told him, some feeling he had insisted that anyone else knowing would be a bad thing. Besides, as he pointed out to Adam, Lex seemed to be repairing himself quite well without help. He looked less…raw, now. His skin didn't have that almost translucent, doll-like quality anymore. He looked less and less like he was on the edge of death every day. Clark begged Adam for a few more days—promised him that if Lex didn't wake then, he'd do whatever Adam wanted. Adam finally gave in to Clark—and not long after that, Lex woke up. H woke with a scream, screamed until he didn't have the strength to. When he couldn't scream, he sobbed, dry, racking sobs that grew weaker, until all he could do was breath—halting, hitched little gasps of air, in and out. 

He managed to explain to Clark how much pain he was in: the sheets hurt him; their hands hurt him, the air moving over his body hurt. The cool, damp strips of cloth they laid on his skin to cool him felt like hot sandpaper. Feeding him caused him pain, swallowing was excruciating, the world was nothing but pain….

Adam finally sent Clark out of the room; he told Clark not to return until he could stop hurting Lex with his behavior. He suffered too openly for Lex to deal with.

Clark stomped off to the farmhouse, vibrating with anger. He tried forcing himself to imagine the cold peace of space to cool off. He thought again about the huge globe floating out in space, all the pain and hurt and sorrow assaulting everyone everyday, pain that people handled, lived with every day, and, he thought, most of them were doing a damn sight better job at it than he was at the moment. He slowed a little, his fierce eruption of anger slowly calming.

Nothing like a sense of shame to kill a tantrum, he thought with a grim smile.

By the time he was opening the kitchen door, he'd cooled down enough to be company. His mom and dad were in the kitchen—they looked startled and then, a little fearful to see him. The shame Clark had felt earlier came back with a vengeance…these were his parents and he'd made them afraid of him. Clark dropped his head and his mom gasped faintly, his dad rushed up from his chair with nothing but concern on his face. "Son…is Lex…Lex isn't…?"

"No! No. He's…okay. Adam made me leave."

"Oh? Oh!" Dad gestured Clark over, pressed him to sit in his chair. "Here, you finish this pie; I have to go close up the sheds anyway. It will do you good to relax for a few minutes, and Mom's pie is the best thing for that."

Clark tried to protest, but his dad dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "It's okay, you know—to take a minute for yourself. He understands. He'd want you to." 

Clark nodded; he gave his dad a small smile. They were trying hard, his parents. He should— _would_ —meet them halfway. "Thanks Dad."

His dad didn't say a word, just patted Clark, gave Mom a quick hug before letting himself out the backdoor. Mom closed it behind him. She leaned against it for a second before she turned to look at Clark. Her eyes roamed all over him, he had crept up to her heart—Clark could see the love—and guilt—she felt. He knew what she was feeling—just at the moment he didn't have enough to deal with his mom, and his…his Lex. 

Clark sighed and dropped his head, concentrated on eating the pie and avoiding his mother's eyes. It wasn't long enough before he finished, and took the plate to the sink. She was standing there, running hot water and soapsuds in the basin, and suddenly he was completely overcome with the need for contact, for a hug. He stood frozen, his hands clenching and unclenching…he couldn't move forward, and couldn't move away. His mother glanced over at him, and gasped. "Oh, Clark, Clark, baby!"

She dropped the dish sponge wrapped her arms around him, tight.

For a moment, he felt like a little kid again—safe. She cried on his shoulder, cried, "sorry, sorry, sorry," and "I love you, we love you, we never meant for this…" into his neck, and he nodded, curled around her, her scent enveloped him, cotton, cinnamon, the fragrance she'd worn…forever, _White Shoulders_ and…and a worn kind of smell he'd never noticed before. She was thinner than he remembered her being, and her hand on his face was dry and soft and trembled just bit…he took it and held it in his. He noticed how lined her hand was and he didn't remember her this way, it made him cry. "I love you, I love you so much, I'm sorry too, I am—"

She nodded, and wiped his face, kissed his cheek. "Go on back now. It'll be fine. Lex has strength we can't even imagine."

He nodded and stepped back, shy again. "Okay. I'll be—back. Tomorrow. Promise."

"What happened? What did they do to you, Lex?" Lex shook his head, and let Adam rub his lips gently with a damp cloth. "You don't remember—or you don't want to say?"

Lex touched Adam's wrist gently, begging for him to stop, and Adam nodded grimly. "All right—but I want to know who did this, because I plan to make them hurt, hurt beyond—"

"Dead. All." Lex closed his eyes in exhaustion, and Adam looked down at him, the faint lines that were beginning to show again, make him look more real again. There was something though, something that whispered in the back if his mind that this…being wasn't Lex at all. Not the Lex that had been taken, by some unknown monsters—this Lex was different. Someone else altogether. 

Something touched him, delicate as butterfly wings. He looked down to see Lex's thin hot hand close weakly around his wrist, Lex's touch too light, too warm. Adam fought back tears. He missed Lex, he missed his lover terribly.

"B'better soon…" Lex stilled all over and Adam thought he was asleep. Adam pulled away a little and when he did, Lex whispered, "Clark?"

"I'll bring him in when he comes back. I sent him home to take a breather, told him he needed to regroup—at least get something to eat."

Lex made a little noise of surprise. "Really? He doesn't, not really…" his voice trailed off as he dropped back into sleep, leaving Adam worried and so, so tired.

Finally, the day came that they could touch Lex again, move him without torturing him. He didn't look like a doll anymore; he was awake most of the day now. He was eating again, and flesh was building up on his bones again, and as Adam observed, normal functions were re-asserting themselves, or as Clark put it, gently, lovingly and with a very careful and soft kiss to the forehead, "You stink."

Adam suggested that a bath might be best, something the two of them could manage. The flow of water over Lex's skin made him go tight and tense all over. He looked so frightened that Clark stripped off too, and sat in the tub with him, held him, managing to soothe him when the touch of his hands made Lex panic. Clark kept talking to him, filling the air with soothing, crooning sound, telling him what had happened while he gone, telling him what they were doing for him, how much he cared, finally just nonsense words, anything to keep Lex distracted. He talked until his voice was dry, until he couldn't speak, and all he could do was rock him in the tepid water. Adam stood against the wall, watching the two of them for a long time before he could make his legs obey him, and walked out of the bathroom to give the two of them privacy. 

When the water went cold enough that Lex complained, Clark carried him out of the tub, his heart breaking at how completely weightless Lex was. He carried him back to the bedroom and gently, carefully, wiped him dry. Lex snorted and rolled his eyes, and Clark figured that he must really be getting better if he had the strength to be sarcastic again.

Clean again, Lex looked so much healthier, if exhausted—completely exhausted. He dropped into a deep sleep immediately, so Clark climbed in next to him, curling his body around Lex's. He drifted off almost as quickly as Lex had, fell so deeply into sleep, he didn't even blink when Adam came in and covered him with a blanket.

Lex was awake, and standing in what pale light managed to squeeze through the drawn drapes. Behind the dark drapes, the moon was full and high—Lex felt its pull like a gentle tug in his midsection, and rubbed at his belly reflectively.

_You don't have to do this you know. You don't need to feel all of this._

'I know,' he answered, 'but I think I have to. Yes. I need to feel it.' 

_Silly, really. You're being masochistic. This need to pay for imaginary transgressions. You don't owe anyone anything. Those lives were dust to begin with and you just returned them to dust. They wanted to be dust, understand? Everything wants to be…dust. Decay and rot, natural states. You see?_

Lex nodded and walked slowly around the bed where his body slept on, and Clark slept, nearly curled around him, draped in a gray blanket Lex vaguely recognized. The sleeping boy interested him. He could see that Clark hadn't been altered like he'd been, Clark was completely different. Unhuman. The odd flow of energy inside him was fascinating—not any more difficult than a human to stop or change—just so interesting. So…different. Lex hummed and stroked Clark inside, twitching at the gleaming lines of energy, pulling a little before letting them go, unchanged. It was so tempting; to take him apart and see what was really Clark. 

Clark was an abstract, a tempting arrangement of energies, not much more than that. An echo of feeling floated through him…distant and faint. He plucked again, Clark grimaced and groaned in his sleep before Lex lost interest and wandered away, entranced by the flow of power around and in every object, thoughts of Clark fading as he drifted.

He wondered about so much—there was so much to wonder about. He walked directly to Adam's room, ignoring the walls in between. He lifted into the air, to hover over the sleeping form on the bed, drawn by the living energy, the warmth.

Lex stared down into Adam's face. Adam looked so sad. He'd probably be happier not knowing any of this; perhaps if he thought that he and Lex had only ever been friends...or had never known each other at all…sad. 

Sad.

Lex closed his eyes in thought. Tried to capture just what the word meant. _Sad_ was…a dull pain deep inside, an empty feeling—

No, that was…fear…or was that the feeling of being submerged, absorbed…? The flicker of concern he'd felt washed away as he was distracted by other energies. Lex drifted on, deep in thought. He had things to mull over…he looked down on his own sleeping shape. He looked up at the bowl of stars above him and thought, these beings…they suffer too much. He could feel their thoughts, concerns, their pain pressing against him. Curious, he opened himself up to all of it, and was fascinated by the weight, the noise of so much…he searched for the word to describe the feeling and tried to ignore the music calling him at the edge of his mind, always right at the edge. All those stars, the sound of all those stars….

_I can fix it. I can. Make it better. Better. Quieter. Cleaner._ That other part of him who'd spoken when he first woke up radiated satisfaction, approval. He took a deep breath, felt a warm, golden glow fill him, felt joy build deep inside of him—it built and built, until with a deep, deep feeling of utter ecstasy, Lex opened his hands —

—Lex jolted wide awake, shaking in the bed, the heat of Clark against him a welcome, a _needed_ weight. Without thinking, he reached out and flicked the surface of Adam's mind, and pulled. _Come now. I need you._

In moments, Adam weaved unsteadily in the doorway, blinking sleepily and looking rumpled, sleep-soft and a little confused. Lex was so terribly grateful to find the sight a little arousing. He held out his hand, "Come lay down with us, I'm so damn cold."

Adam hesitated, then shrugged and climbed on the bed with them. Clark never woke, not so much as a snuffle as Adam arranged himself on his side carefully, his back to Lex. "Go back to sleep," he said. "You need a lot more rest."

Lex nodded. He slipped his arm through Adam's. Yes, he needed a lot more rest, and more time to think things through.

"I don't know what happened," he lied smoothly. "All I remember is…is you. Talking to me. Things would happen, terrible things, but you'd be there, Clark, talking to me, helping me."

Lex leaned against the pillows behind him, his eyes almost closed. He watched Clark through his eyelashes. His feet were in Clark's lap, and Clark was rubbing a soothing cream into his skin. His big hands were strong and hot, and made Lex feel wonderfully relaxed. Clark's fingers massaged him and drove heat into his skin. Since awakening again, he was always, always cold. 

"I don't know how I wound up in the desert. No, I don't remember what happened to me there." Lex sighed. It was getting harder and harder not to interfere. He was afraid to sleep—he felt his control eroding more and more every time he closed his eyes. He was afraid every time that feeling of impatience welled up in him, when he _touched_ Clark or Adam or the Kents without being aware of it, stroking those shining threads of lovely energy, knowing how easy it would be to change—what happened for them. Alter their paths just a little bit—he could change just the small bits and they'd all still be the same as they were, just…missing a little pain. What was that compared to more joy? That whispering part of himself that was starting to feel bigger and colder in his mind spoke to him, sliding the words into his mind: _they'd be just what you want them to be, however you want them to be. They'd never know and what could be wrong with that?_

Clark stared at him, worry creasing his forehead, aware that something was wrong, but not sure what. "Are you sure you don't remember, Lex? It was… _I_ remember it." 

_Too much, sometimes._ Lex heard him say, though Clark's lips were pressed firmly together. Lex was surprised, and not entirely happy that at some level, the link was still there. He'd have to fix that, root that out.

"Lex?" he head Clark say, and realized he'd never actually responded to Clark. "I'm telling you, I don't remember. I only know that they're all dead. Everyone who did this to me is dead. The one thing I _do_ remember is the fire, the explosion. The fear." 

He didn't see any reason to tell Clark that anyone who'd had the slightest hand in his torture was gone, dissolved, floating on the wind. He let that memory go, and turned his focus back to Clark and the wonderful things he was doing. 

Clark massaged cream into the arch of his feet, and Lex moaned with how damn good it felt. Clark glanced up at him, blushing as he laughed softly and said, "Your feet are so…sexy." 

He looked down at Lex's feet as he massaged each toe, carefully, gently. It tickled, it felt good. Clark's thumbs pushed against his arch, then worked up his ankle…Lex melted gratefully into his touch. Clark was massaging his calves now, working the cream and the warmth of his hand deep into his skin and the warmth was crawling upward faster than Clark's hands moved. He watched Clark as he worked, watched a pink tinge flush Clark's skin, darkening as it rose over his cheek bones, his lips, his neck. 

Lex felt the way Clark's breath got rougher, the way his heart beat faster, he could smell—sweet, a little salty scent on the air, and knew it came from Clark. He was erect, and his own heart beat faster.

Clark tilted his head at him, and smiled a little, blushed deeper and he realized as he'd been examining Clark's reaction to him, Clark had been aware of Lex's reaction to him.

"I'll do your back, if you like?" he said, and looked hopeful and Lex smiled and turned to expose his bare back. 

"Go slow—careful Clark." 

"Oh, don't worry; I can see exactly what I'm doing. Um…I can't hurt you, promise."

"Oh, I believe you." Lex smiled into the pillow, relaxed further into Clark's hands. Clark worked higher and higher, and his heart beat faster and faster. Lex decided that now would be the time to…wait. "Clark," Lex murmured. "I'm really tired now…do you mind?"

"Oh! Oh I'm sorry…I'll…how about you nap, and I'll bring dinner back later?"

"Thank you." Lex could hear the disappointment and guilt in his voice. He could smell how aroused Clark was, could feel the need pulsing in him. Lex wondered if Clark would turn to Adam now. He was very aroused himself. But now was not the time. Not yet.

Adam sat on the edge of the guest room bed and contemplated the mounds of clothing and just…stuff…that he was trying to cram into the pair of suitcases open on the floor. He shook his head. Amazing what crap you could accumulate in the space of a month or two. He was about to give it another go when the door to the room creaked open, and a red-faced Clark stood there.

"Oh—you're packing all ready? But school doesn't start for another week."

Adam waved him in. "I know, but there's so much I have to do yet, and Harry's breathing down my neck. I need to get back to Metropolis…" He grinned up at Clark, hoping he was doing a good job of projecting 'upbeat and cheerful.' "Can you believe all this crap?"

Clark smiled slightly and walked in, stood by the bed. "I feel kind of lousy. Can I lay on you for a minute?"

Adam looked up, their eyes met for a second before Clark blushed and looked away, and he figured he had a pretty good idea what was bothering the kid. Man. "Sure. Come here," he said, and slid over to make room.

The bed creaked with both their weights; Adam sighed, and let Clark lean against him. Poor guy. Beating himself up some more, feeling guilty that he hadn't tried to get to Lex sooner….

He wondered why Clark couldn't see, couldn't feel that Lex wasn't…really their Lex any more. He smoothed the hair back from Clark's forehead and kneaded his shoulder, softer as he started to relax against him. It occurred to him it could be deliberate on Clark's part. Was Clark trying to ignore what was happening? Adam rested his chin against Clark's head, and tried to let go of all the thoughts that lately had been riding his brain like insane valkyries. Until a thought surfaced that made him want to smack himself— why didn't he think of this earlier? "Clark…you know that…link thing that you felt you had with Lex, do you still feel it? I mean, can you hear him, like before?"

Clark shook his head. "No, not like before." He stopped, and breathed in and out for a bit and said quietly, "Adam. Do you…do you think Lex really is better now?" he twisted to look up at him, and Adam shrugged. 

"Sure. Of course he is, will be. I…I imagine the horror of what he went through has to be effecting him beyond a conscious level. His body remembers, even if his mind is closed off from those memories…still, I do believe he's getting better."

Clark frowned. "That's just it, Adam. I don't believe he doesn't remember. Whatever happened out there was so—so _huge…_ I think he's lying."

Adam didn't speak. Clark settled back against him with a tired sigh. 

Adam rubbed his shoulders lightly, thinking…he had to agree with Clark—Lex was lying, but why? And what about, exactly? Days ago, Lex looked like he was dying, hell, he _was_ dying. Clark brought back a, a corpse. But now, he looked like Lex again. Only…he looked _too_ much like Lex, like Lex distilled, Lex squared. Adam snorted. Maybe he was going off the deep end. Maybe he should take his own advice—Clark wasn't the only one who needed a decent meal, and rest. Adam tried to still his racing mind, and Clark's comfortable weight and warmth helped to relax him, but even as he drifted, his mind was picking at the mystery. Maybe he should take a few more days before leaving Smallville.

A few evenings later, after dinner had been cleared away, and Lex had showered, Clark indulged in what was becoming an evening ritual for them. They were on Lex's bed. Lex was on his front; his legs were draped across Clark's lap, as Clark meticulously smoothed cream on Lex's still delicate skin. Clark did so happily because it let him touch Lex as much as he wanted, smoothing the cream across his baby fine skin was so incredibly erotic for Clark He felt a little guilty every time he massaged Lex, guilty about wanting him so much, aching for him… and only concern for Lex's mental state kept him from throwing himself on him, and begging to—to—suck him off or--whatever Lex wanted.

He watched the paths his fingers took on Lex's skin, the flush of pink as blood rose to the surface, and Clark marveled at Lex's incredible, miraculous ability to heal. His skin was luminous, like silk to the touch. There was no trace of the withered, blackened creature he'd laid on this bed weeks ago, moaning and shuddering in pain. Lex glowed with health, he was beautiful—and Clark knew that Lex scared the shit out of Adam. 

He was pretty sure that Lex had scared himself before—before all this happened. No wonder he'd needed to try and find out more about himself. There was no book, no family to turn to, and no one to ask questions of. There was no one else like Lex.

Clark moved to work his hands up and down Lex's back, mesmerized by the play of light over his skin, the subtle shift of muscle. Clark slowly let out the breath he'd just realized he'd been holding, and rubbed at a tight spot between Lex's shoulders. Lex was alone in the same way Clark was. They shared something that Adam never could….

Clark dropped his head until his lips were inches from Lex's skin… _or maybe not_ Clark gasped, drew back.

"Is…everything okay, Clark?" Lex asked and Clark couldn't help but think that Lex was amused by it all.

"Yeah…." He massaged the tight muscles the length of Lex's back, and worked his way down to his hips, his hands stopped right above the spot that dipped before rising to the curve of his ass. They trembled there for a bit before moving back upwards. He groaned silently—he was hard, and sex—sex was sadly becoming something of a distant memory. He bit his lip and begged his body to stop betraying him. He tried to lift farther away from the lithe torso under him. Lex made a sound, halfway between a sigh and a moan, that went straight to his dick. He silently begged Lex to go back to sleep so he could go jerk off. Instead, Lex rolled until he was on his back under Clark. Clark froze—his hands were now on Lex's chest, and he could feel his nipples tightening under his hyper-sensitive palms. He looked down at Lex's sleepy smile and swallowed. "Oh…gosh."

Lex's dick was pressed hard against his stomach, trapped there by the waistband of his sleep pants. Clark was mesmerized by the drop of fluid welling up out of the slit, the way it shimmered on the tip, tempting him to touch. He reached out slowly, brushed his fingertips over it. Lex jerked and the precome spilled. Wet his finger, slick and warm--he couldn't stop; he bent his head and rolled his tongue over his fingers, his palm.

Lex hissed. "Clark…" and palmed the back of his head.

His dick jerked—hard. *Lex*...Clark pulled the drawstring of Lex's cotton pants loose, pushed down on the waistband, releasing his dick, wrapped his fingers around it and stroked. At the touch of his hand, Lex looked completely surprised, as if he hadn't expected…feeling it. His mouth opened in a shocked O, and he rolled his hips, thrust into Clark's loose fist.

"Tighter, hold me tighter."

Clark tightened his grip, and stroked, loving the slide of velvety skin over his palm, the feel of steel under the smooth slip of skin. "God…Lex."

Lex laughed and moaned at once. "Which? Which one do you want?"

Clark chuckled at Lex's little joke, and moved his hand a little faster, tighter, and felt himself getting harder. Lex pressed down with the hand on Clark's neck and he bent with the pressure, until his mouth was over Lex's dick, his lips skimming the warm slick head.

"Yes," he hissed. "Do it," and Clark opened his mouth, slid Lex in. The silky-smooth head slid against his palette, thick, warm in his mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned. This—this was it. What he'd wanted ever since that day on the street, in the alley—this was Lex's dick in his mouth, his taste on his tongue—

Clark shivered, and his dick thickened, hardened, dripping into the flannel holding him….

Lex stared at Clark, watched the awkward movement of his mouth over him, felt saliva run down his shaft and slip over his balls, Clark's hand followed the wet trail and cupped him, rolling his balls gently in his fingers. Lex arched and breathed out, smiled at the slow shudders working over Clark's skin. His fingers laced together over the back of Clark's neck, and he thrust up, gently one or twice and then harder, hard as he knew Clark could take it.

He let the link open a little and Clark gasped. Lex's pleasure flowed across the link, hitting Clark like an electric shock—it rushed back along the link to Lex, doubled, and tripled and flowed back and forth between them, until Clark felt helpless to do anything but thrust mindlessly against the bed as he desperately tried to swallow Lex down—

Lex reveled in the feeling, in the pleasure and in Clark's desperate desire to have more, to give him more—it made Lex _want_ more, and he let loose control and just. _was._

He slid along a tingling, slippery thread; he felt Adam in his room. Lex smiled, a long slow dark smile, and threaded tendrils of thought, want, over Adam, inside Adam, pulled him into the loop—

He laughed lightly when Adam woke in his bed with a shudder and a groan. 

Clark glanced up, and Lex threaded fingers through his damp hair. He told Clark, "You make me feel wonderful. You're so…hot. You can open more," and thrust deeper into Clark's throat. "Suck me." Clark shuddered and gulped, straining to get more of Lex in, his lips pressed tight against the line of soft tender skin, delicious tender skin…

Lex shivered and brought Adam deeper into the loop, listened to his heart speed up, felt sweat break out on his forehead, his belly, could feel his dick strain upwards, and heard/felt the small sob spill out of his lips as he fought uselessly to break Lex's hold. Lex felt the second Adam broke, when he gave over to the pull, began jerking himself viciously, almost punishing. Lex felt the pain and the pleasure echo in his own body. Drank in Adam's misery, his loneliness, his fear of bring left behind and it tasted like summer, bright and thick, sweet. Lex slid back to Clark, rolled in Clark's guilt, Clark's fear of/for Lex, his desire, his fear…Clark's love, Adam's love.

It was thick, clinging to the inside of Lex's head, pulling him inside…Lex frowned and tried to pull back out of the loop but the loop kept ….

Adam was crying, Lex felt the heat of tears on his own skin. Trapped in the loop of ecstasy with them, Adam was helpless to shut out Clark's spikes of pleasure, the overwhelming love Clark felt for Lex and—and for Adam.  
The weight of it was dragging Lex under.

Adam was gasping, jerking up into his fist, muttering, Lex's name, Clark's name, calling out, and his pain and sorrow grew along with his need to come, bigger and brighter and Clark/Adam was coming, orgasm burning in their veins, looping back, Adam/Clark was swallowing, holding Lex's hips closer, and drinking down his come, as Lex/Adam/Clark struggled to snap his hips in the grip holding him still—Clark reached out a hand and yelled for Adam/Adam screamed—short, sharp, and he was _there_ right there with them, kneeling at the side of the bed…. 

Lex was stunned. _Frightened._ He felt all that love like electricity flowing between them, he felt himself being strung thin as a wire from Clark to Adam and he felt every bit of the pain and fear and the _belief,_ the all consuming belief both of them had of his love for them. They _believed_ he loved them, with all their hearts they believed—and all of that love broke him the way that hatred and torture couldn't. 

Where was he, who was he—what horrible thing was he? 

He had to escape—

Adam was sweating and shaking with the effort it took to stand. Lex looked dead and Clark's face was ivory-pale, his expression one of horrified wonder.

"What—what the motherfucking hell was _that?"_ Adam panted.

Clark shook his head. "I—don't—" He laid his hand on Lex's chest and closed his eyes—concentrated. After a second, he huffed, relieved. "He's okay, he's only sleeping." He looked up at Adam and blushed deeply; he pulled Lex's sleep pants back into place and blushed so hard every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire. "I'm…"

Adam dropped his head and backed away, suddenly calm and controlled, the expression one he'd learned from Lex. "It's okay; I'm leaving and you two can be—"

"What?" Clark fixed Adam with an incredulous stare. "Hey! Are you stupid? Were you paying attention? You're not going anywhere. Or, at least, you're not leaving us. We—that was a gift, whether he intended it or not, it _was_ a gift." He reached his free hand out to Adam, and beckoned him close, and Adam reluctantly came closer. Clark had one hand on Lex and cupped the other around Adam's cheek and kissed him until Adam felt warm again, right through to his soul.

Clark let him go slowly, giving Adam a little smile. "Now," he said, "What do we do about Lex?"

Adam rubbed his thumb across his lip, shook his head. "Um. Besides smother him in his sleep—I have no idea."

Clark nodded. He knew Adam was only half joking. What just happened was—a nightmare, a miracle—the hottest, most horrible thing that he'd ever experienced. He glanced at Adam again, and Adam blushed, his lips jerked in a half smile before settling into a frown.

That had been an insane amount of power he'd felt—insane. He'd felt like he'd touched the surface of the sun—as if Lex _was_ the sun. No one person could hold that. That Lex had as long as this was astonishing. That he was losing control was obvious. That he was barely Lex anymore was also obvious—but he was in there. There were moments in that frightening, amazing, web… _loop_ …that he'd pulled all three of them into that Lex had been firmly Lex. He was in there somewhere, just…lost.

Lex woke suddenly and violently, his mouth open in a silent scream as he arched off the bed. He began convulsing, limbs slamming against the bed hard enough to shake it despite Clark's added weight. Adam threw himself on Lex, yelling for Clark to hold him—at Adam's touch, Lex instantly went still. His eyes were wide, locked on the ceiling. He shuddered; sweat pouring off of him…his lips parted and a low, hoarse scream boiled out of him, faded into silence again. His eyes dropped to Adam's. He blinked slowly, gasped "What—what happened? Adam?" 

He caught sight of Clark, jerked in surprise. "Clark? Why…why are you in bed with us—me? What's going on?"

Clark looked down at Lex in shocked disbelief—and laughed wildly. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I think the question is, are you okay?" Lex looked to Adam. "It is late isn't it?" At his answering nod, Lex said, "Clark, your parents are going to kill me—" he hesitated and stared at Clark. "Unless…are we having a sleep over, and if we are, please tell me your parents gave permission?" He started to rise and hissed. "Wow…I feel as if I got sunburned all over…" he glanced over at Adam with a secret little smirk, "like that time in France, remember…"

Adam stood abruptly; his eyes were fierce, shining with angry tears. "Cut it out. Knock it the fuck off. Stop playing with us," he hissed, and balled his fists. He looked on the edge of hurting…someone.

"Adam…" Clark began and Lex interrupted.

"What's wrong, love? What did I do—what happened today?" Lex looked a little frightened, concerned. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked with a guilty glance at Clark.

Adam shook his head, harder and harder and snapped "Oh, so you don't remember. That's what you're playing at? You don't remember _anything?"_

"Of course, I remember," Lex said, in a practiced soothing voice, glanced at Clark, his eyebrows raised in a silent question _what happened?_

When Clark just stood open-mouthed, silent, Lex turned back to Adam. "Listen, I know I promised you a few days on the coast, but…I honestly don't know what to tell you. I see we didn't go, but. I don't know why. I don't get it…"

Adam dropped to the floor and took Lex's face in his hands. Lex's perfectly ordinary, beautiful face. Not a trace of an eldritch glow, not brimming over with superhuman health and energy. Lex looked fine, just a little worn, a little tired, faint tracing of frown lines around his mouth and eyes—and Adam burst into tears.

"Oh no, please don't cry, don't—" Lex looked back at Clark. "Clark, what the fuck is wrong? What the _hell_ is going on?"

Clark let out a long shaky breath and laughed, pretty noticeably on the edge of hysteria, and Lex looked more and more frightened. He clutched Adam, his arms tightening around him the more Clark laughed. 

"Lex…Lex…" Clark dropped to the bed next to Adam, threw an arm over his shaking shoulders and kissed the back of his neck as Lex looked on in shock.

"Lex, this is going to take a while, and you might not believe most of it, but it's all true—"

Adam laughed, the sound muffled by the arms around him, "Oh my god, Clark…"

Lex narrowed his eyes at Clark. "You better tell me what's been going on and I mean _right_ now."

August ended, summer break was over and Clark was back in school, his final year. He would graduate with the rest of his class, something no one would have bet on the previous year. From just barely making it though his junior year, he shot to the top of all his classes, astonishing his teachers. Without the artificial constraints on his ability, school was simple—without constantly checking himself, making sure that he was always just perfectly average, it was even less of a chore.

Other changes took place in his life, too. He was out to the school, out to the town now—not in a sneaking 'everybody knows about Kent' kind of way, but aggressively, open; as in 'my boyfriend is prettier and richer than yours' kind of way. He was eighteen and no one could question his choice and for once in his life he felt almost free.

There was something about Clark—something happened to him that summer, everyone agreed. He was—a little scarier—a lot scarier, than he'd ever been before. And oddly, friendlier. 

He was going to Metropolis University in fall. He was going to live in Metropolis, with his parents blessing, with Lex. 

Adam was going to graduate at the end of the year. He had his position already. He was about to become the youngest, richest CEO in North American history. He was ready—he knew that there was no way to avoid it, and he figured maybe he could do some good. He had the backing of the board, and confidence in himself and those he picked to stand by him. He was going to live in Metropolis, with Lex.

Lex wandered through the castle, taking his time. His destination was the library, where he planned to take it easy, relax, read a little, and to that end he had a good book and a nice glass of wine.

He spent a pleasant hour reading—the book was engrossing, the sofa was comfortable and the library was filled with the kind of golden light that a fall afternoon brought. With a small sigh, he laid down the book, skimmed back his sweater sleeve to glance at his watch.

He had a half hour before his on-line conference. He'd built up a nice consultation business conducted entirely over the net. Adam was doing fine running Lexcorp and as far as anyone else knew, Lex didn't exist and for the moment, they were content to leave it that way, with an option on maybe forever. 

Lex walked into his bedroom and pulled off the sweater and smiled as he held it—Martha was really a very skilled knitter. It was his favorite. It made him feel very human, and he treasured feeling like that. It was the reason he spent so much time with the Kents. They treated him like a son, partly because they thought that Clark and he were committed to each other, partly because he'd managed to build a good relationship with them. They were a pleasure to be with—they were honest, simple and relentlessly normal. Average. Clueless.

He walked into his closet and shed the rest of his clothing. Looked at himself in the mirror. Clark and Adam told him about what they'd thought must have happened to him, and he'd been properly horrified. Just…horrified. 

He ran hands over his smooth skin. He tilted his head and considered. What if…he watched red hair flow over his scalp until it was long enough to curl around his shoulders. Too long? He thought again and he examined the resultant red buzz cut—shook his head and smiled. The hair dropped to the ground, leaving him bald again, as red strands floated free and drifted around him. He waved his hand and every strand disappeared.

Well. 

The boys were happy and that made him happy. It took very little effort to hide from them, and he'd refrained from doing anything—yet. 

A big change was coming, but he hid that, along with his true self. He grinned. Hiding was something he was especially skilled at.

Lex took a step forward and walked right into the mirror and out into the kitchen, dressed again and humming vaguely as he puttered around, looking for something interesting to nibble on. There was a small gasp behind him, and he turned with a smile. 

"Mr. Lex, I didn't see you walk past me."

"It's all right, Mrs. Porter," he told the cook. "I'm very light on my feet." She smiled uncertainly as he walked past her out of the kitchen. He winked as he snagged an apple from the counter and bit into it. "Delicious," he smiled.

Lionel Luthor received a visitor one night, on his very private island, where he enjoyed spending his rare moments of down time. It was something he'd bought not long after Lex's death. He'd taken Lex's 'death' as a sign that one must occasionally stop to smell the roses. Finding that Lex was alive after all hadn't changed his feeling much. Roses smelled quite nice, really….

"I had nothing, _nothing_ to do with it," he told the white figure lounging in his doorway. "I didn't, I swear."

"Oh, I know you had nothing to do my kidnapping and torture." The tall figure shrugged. "Maybe my death. That's open to debate. But—once you knew, you did nothing. Why?"

Lionel didn't detect censure in the man's tone, just…honest curiosity. "You know that we don't negotiate with gangsters or terrorists. You know that."

"That's true. You were just following policy. So, I forgive your action. I won't kill you."

Lionel felt a ridiculous amount of relief on hearing him—probably the last clear thought he'd ever have.

Lionel spent the rest of his life in Belle Reeve, not necessarily a bad thing as he was found to have a great hand with roses. He never spoke, unless the man he insisted was his son visited, and then he only said sorry over and over again.

Morning sun slanted in through the blinds, across the wood floors, and filled the huge open space with bright light. It flooded the living area; it brightened the dining area and warmed the partitions that separated the private spaces from the public ones in the new apartment. From his spot in the kitchen, he could see the whole of their place. He liked the open arrangement, they all did, glad of the open space, no more walls. Certainly, there was something in him that was glad of not being enclosed….

Lex leaned against the counter and cracked eggs into a bowl. He took his time, his fingers flexing carefully around the shells. Watching them split open and shatter delicately pleased him. He made sure no bit of shell fell into the clear whites. He rested his hands on the counter as he whisked the eggs together, whites shimmying as the yolks wobbled around and fell apart. He stared at the bowl, idly directed the flow of the flecks of pepper and dried herbs that whirled around in the mixture. Humming a little, he adjusted the heat under the pan on the stove. He dropped butter in the hot pan, and was mesmerized by the sizzle, the sight of the butter gliding around and around as it liquefied. He chased it with his finger, pushing the rapidly shrinking knob around, drawing trails through the bubbling liquid, and laughed a little. He heard a sound behind him and straightened, turning with a smile to face Adam and wiping his hand casually on the tea towel tucked in his waistband. 

Adam was fresh from the shower. He had one towel knotted around his wait and was using another to dry water from his hair. He pushed the towel back, letting it drape around his neck, and finger-combed wet bangs out of his face. "Oh, there you are—ah! Omelets." He pressed a damp kiss on Lex's mouth. "How did you know I was craving omelets?" He pulled Lex's hand up to rest on his hip. 

Lex shrugged, feeling goose bumps rise under his fingertips as he sketched circles on the smooth skin. "Just lucky, I guess," he murmured. He patted Adam's hip, moved him gently aside and turned the heat down. As he poured the egg into the pan, he glanced over at Adam. "Are you planning to dress any time today?"

He struck a pose, hip outthrust and a grin crinkling his nose. "No. Is there any more of that salsa you bought the other day?" he asked, and Lex was suddenly struck with a full blown and unpleasantly vivid memory of Adam standing in the penthouse kitchen, dirty, shivering from cold and fear and hunger….

Something twisted inside him. 

Adam smiled at him, and dropped the little plastic tub on the counter. "There! I knew we had some…" 

Lex stared at the container, feeling frozen and out of time….

"Hey…everything okay?"

Lex looked up into Adam's concerned face and nodded, riding out the wave of disorienting memory as past and the present were overlaid. He could hear 'Allen' stubbornly insisting that he wasn't hungry as he stared desperately at the food on the table, and Adam talking about the meeting with the stockholders coming up…

Adam asked him if he needed help, and the room settled into the present again. He shivered. "No, thanks…is Clark up yet?"

Adam said, "Ah…he's the shower. Still."

Lex watched the full body flush spread over Adam, heard his heart beat a little faster. He shook his head. "Adam. We created a monster."

Adam laughed, "Yeah. We kinda did." _Good for us._

Lex blinked, blinked again. That…he shook his head quickly. Was unsettling. He hadn't tried to fish that thought out of Adam's head.

"I'm hungry; do we have to wait for Clark?" 

"What—no, no, we don't. Here, let me…" Lex set out plates on the table and just as he slid Adam's omelet onto his plate, Clark walked in, wrapped up in a robe and looking entirely too satisfied. His eyes brightened even more when he saw there was food. He was draped over Lex in the blink of an eye, wrapping him up in the robe with him, kissing him hard enough to make Lex gasp, his hands clutch at damp, smooth, hot, skin. He pulled away with an effort, nearly groaning when his hands were left empty. "Clark! Go sit--eat."

Clark obediently sat, and grinned at Adam. "Good morning. Again." 

Lex sat with them, watching them eat as he sipped at a glass of water. "Adam likes your wakeup techniques, Clark. Maybe you can demonstrate later."

Clark blushed a little, and licked lips that were just a little redder and fuller than usual. "I'd love to," he said, and fumbled a forkful of salsa covered egg into his lap. Adam smiled. "Let's not waste that. Lex watched Adam help Clark clean up the little mess, and drank gulps of ice-cold water. 

After breakfast, groomed to a tee and Armani-armored, Adam kissed them both goodbye—they wished him luck, and when the door closed, Clark turned to Lex. "Want to see those techniques?"

Lex smiled.

The loft area that was Lex's bedroom was flooded with light—nothing was on the birch wood floor except a mattress piled high with pillows, and an antique Chinese medicine cabinet. Clark shrugged out of the robe and dropped naked to the bed, one knee drawn up, his hand moving lazily over his dick.

Lex smirked as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails free. He unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. "Clark, Clark, Clark…what happened to the shrinking violet I used to know, hmm?" He gazed at Clark, eating him up with his eyes and Clark watched avidly as Lex skimmed off clothing, dropping it to pile on the floor.

"Clark…get on your knees." Lex frowned a little. 

Clark's eyes widened, and he quickly rolled to his knees, the silk comforter shifted under his knees. The pillows tumbled forward to frame his head, his cheek rested on his crossed forearms and he smiled at Lex. The position opened, displayed him, and Lex felt his breath come faster and wondered…that shouldn't happen. He bent over Clark's back, and words wanted to come but they didn't make sense, and he bit his lip. The room swam in and out of focus…he wiped sweat from his brow and bent closer.

"Lex," Clark whispered, and shivered when Lex's hand stroked over his hip, cupped the curve of bone and slid under him, to cradle his dick. "Lex," he whispered again and thrust into his hand. Lex stroked him from root to tip, watched Clark's face transform from playful and anticipating to drugged, blissed out. His mouth loosened and he groaned, small noises over and over that made Lex flex, quiver…

"Do you want more?"

Clark moaned and pushed himself into Lex's loose fist harder, he fucked Lex's fist and stammered, "Ah—I—oh, yes—yes—"

Lex felt a creeping sense of discomfort. Something was wrong. He covered his distraction by leaning back, reaching for the low chest and Clark moaned in disappointment. He touched himself, and Lex said flatly. "Stop."

Clark jerked his hand away, his sides heaving with the effort to comply. His eyes bored into Lex's, and there was the faintest touch of confusion almost hidden by the arousal. Precome laced from his dick to his fingers, a thin, long string clung to them as he moved his hand away from his dick, but he nodded. "Okay."

Lex moved behind him and dribbled lube down his cleft, pressed softly against the tight ring of muscle there. "What do you want, Clark…do you want me to fuck you?"

Clark whined, his hips jerked. The muscle relaxed, and the tip of Lex's finger slid in like it'd been swallowed up—Lex moved his finger smoothly in and out, and Clark gasped every time he withdrew it completely, gasped every time Lex slid it back. Lex felt like he was burning up; he was dizzy and sweating and it was hard not to just knock Clark down and fuck him until he came but that was wrong. People shouldn't—Lex shouldn’t do things like that. 

Again Lex felt the weird wave of...something. He pushed it away instead of examining it, turned his attentions to Clark. He saw Clark—saw everything about Clark, actually— to his eyes Clark was clear and visible as glass.

It was fascinating to watch his reactions to Lex, the way his blood flowed faster, muscles slid and knotted, and his lungs worked harder and harder—Lex could see Clark, through layers of skin and bone and fat and muscle. Clark shuddered and jumped, moaned and pressed back against Lex when he pushed in with another finger. "Do you like that, Clark?" he asked, with a mounting feeling of losing control. "Like it how it feels?" he asked again. 

"Oh, God, yes," Clark groaned, "oh yes…"

"Lex. Say it. Lex."

"Lex, Lex, I like it, I like it, god, so much," and Lex slid another finger in and spread them, making Clark growl, and thrust back against him, he shuddered and begged Lex to fuck him. Lex pulled his fingers out, pulled long wet stripes of precome down his cleft as he rubbed his dick over his ass, over the lube wet hole, grimaced and shuddered when the ridge caught and dragged against him. Lex reached again and again for the ice inside, but Clark groaned his name so desperately, begged for his dick with such heat—Lex hissed and slammed inside Clark. It was a moment before he could breathe again, and Clark yelled, "Yes, yes…" he was in two places at once and nowhere and everywhere, deep down inside of himself there was a pinprick of heat that wanted to grow. He fought with it as ruthlessly as he fucked Clark. He broke out in a sweat and electric sparks danced over his nerves. Waves of pleasure swept him so fiercely he froze, and Clark moved when he didn't, fucked himself on Lex, his head jerked, and sweat flew, hair pasted against his face and Lex was absorbed against his will in his ecstasy.  
Lex, Lex…Lex groaned and the tiny spark inside of him hurt. It burned…something…lurking inside, something was trying to hurt him…and he lost it all when the slippery wave of hot need, the need to come, uncoiled in his gut, trembled and grew and exploded….

_What_ THE FUCK--LEX? **What** _are you doing?_ **'s happening?** _Get out of_ MY MIND, GET OUT, **Oh** SHIT…FUCK ME _I can't stop it_ NOT NOW **please** _this can't be happening to me!_ I— _I_ **Oh God Adam can you** _feel it_ **feel it** FEEL IT. EVERYTHING… _Get out, both of you_ I'M AT A MEETING CLARK! LEX!  
**Sorry, sorry, I'm not doing it, Lex…**

_GET OUT! LEAVE ME ALONE!_

Lex dropped to Clark's back, wrung out, breathless and feeling like he'd come apart. Clark held himself up on shaky arms, aftershocks of orgasm racing through him. "Lex," he gasped. "What…did you mean to do that, or…it seemed…"

Lex dropped to the tangle of sheets and stared up at the ductwork in the exposed ceiling for a few seconds before climbing off the bed. "I'm going to the bathroom." He knew Clark was staring after him, but he didn't have the energy to stop and soften his memory of what happened.

In the bathroom, Lex hunched over the sink and opened a faucet full blast. He was sweeping handfuls of water into his mouth when he realized the water was steaming... he'd turned on the hot and never noticed. He stared at himself in the mirror. _Who is that in the glass?_

He touched the mirror, pulled his fingertips through the glass like water, and a little voice whispered with cold breath against his heart, _That is you._

Lex gripped the sink, grinding his teeth together from the sudden stab of fear, a bit of the porcelain peeled away without his noticing. With a curse, Lex repaired it and brushed the dust off his hands. His hands… he fisted them, squeezed until the nails bit into his palm painfully. He was losing control. 

No.

But, no, not a problem, he'd just reorganize himself; change Things so that he could better control Lex. Himself. He glanced in the mirror, drew himself up straight. He rolled his shoulders and gave himself a smile. 

What was he? He was the perfect son, he was the perfect friend. He was an angel, with all the concern for humanity that an angel had….who was he? He was Alexander Joseph Luthor. He murmured, watching his reflection's lips move as he spoke, "Death I am, the destroyer of worlds, who has come to annihilate everyone." He laughed, and slapped a trembling hand against his mouth to muffle the sound

"Lex? Everything okay?" The glass wall that partitioned the bathroom from the bed area clouded when Clark came near, and leaned around the edge. "You okay? I thought I heard something…"

Lex smiled and watched the cloud of gold and red come closer. It vibrated and hummed in a delicious way before coalescing, becoming his lover. 

"Clark," he whispered, shoving and tucking and folding himself back into his brittle shell. "I'm fine—hey, why don't we go to the market this morning? We can pick something up for dinner." He glanced back at the mirror and he looked…like Lex. He turned off the water.

"Good idea." Clark shuffled a little closer and kissed Lex's shoulder. "Will you come with me to the library, after? If I don't get started on this paper…" Clark passed him a hand towel. 

Lex snorted softly. "Oh please, you could wait until five minutes before class--" 

"Well, yeah, but it wouldn't be right." 

Lex stopped drying his hands and looked at Clark, ready to toss out a joke in response when he saw that Clark was perfectly serious. Lex was nonplused--after everything the boy had gone through, after losing nearly everything that kept him grounded, kept him…human….

Lex shook his head. Unbelievable. He'd had his heart and his trust broken and still he believed in right and wrong. Lex folded the towel on the rack thoughtfully. And most of Clark's pain had been Lex's fault. His 'bequest' had been meant to comfort, to be a visible reminder of his love for Clark. Instead, the stupid gift of the castle had nearly been Clark's undoing. What was so difficult to understand was that Clark didn't blame Lex at all. Clark loved him.

Clark was willing to hold back all that he was capable of for a belief in something Lex wasn't sure applied to the universe. Clark believed in right and wrong and probably happily ever after. 

Lex shivered. That was just insane.

Lex cruised slowly down the streets, looking, searching for something inside himself, some feeling he knew should be there. He passed groups of…children really, huddled in their jackets, faces turned out to the street and searching too. Worn, tired, and trying to look enticing and the most part, all they had to offer was their youth.

Lex stared through the windshield and didn't care about any one of them. He looked into their eyes and only saw the quickest way to return them to dust and how that would be the right thing to do. Everything about them screamed out for oblivion. Their little rat-like thoughts skittered and tumbled and searched for the dark—frightened of the light, frightened of thinking. Lex itched to reduce them to their basic components. His body remembered the beautiful fire, red mist settling over it like warm rain. He longed to reach inside them and break the strings that held them all together and recreate that lovely, lovely feeling….

Lex realized he was parked at the curb, the engine racing and his heart doing the same. Sweat coated him, cold against his face and under his arms. What the fuck—he didn't want to kill everyone. Anyone. He really didn't. He was out here to help, not hurt. Really.

They'd thank you, the cold said. They want it. They just don't know how much they want it. 

Shit. He had to get out of the car, he had to breathe, touch someone human. Think, think like a human.

A shadow peeled itself off the wall and became a boy in a puffy coat who was speaking to him. 

"Hey man, nice car." 

Lex jerked, his mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. He stepped forward, a stiff, clumsy move that had him clutching at the boy's jacket.

"Shii-it…" The boys eyes were wide and staring, not at him, but at the sidewalk behind him. Dust devils whirled and danced over footsteps carved inches into the concrete.

"Oh fuck—" The boy jerked away from Lex, powdered nylon drifting between Lex's fingers as he straightened. The boy dashed away unnoticed as Lex concentrated, forced the cold, icy murmur back down, contained the desire. He walked on, head down. High. Higher, he needed to be….

He lifted his head to a view of the city from the top of LuthorCorp Tower. He stepped over ductwork and pipes, gravel crunching under foot as he moved to the chest high wall that edged the rooftop. The night glowed with pinprick points of multi-color light. He inhaled deeply. Behind him, he felt a sudden gentle wash of yellow warmth. "You found me." 

"Yeah. We were worried. We couldn't fee-find you anywhere. And then suddenly—you were everywhere." Clark sounded awed and...afraid. 

Lex nodded. "Where's Adam?"

"Someplace safe, I hope."

Lex nodded again, moved away from the wall. "Wise," he said. Clark moved back, a very small step, but Lex felt it. 

"You don't have to be afraid, Clark. It's just…I've realized my destiny," he said.

Clark swallowed and stopped himself from retreating. "Does it include me?" he asked. "Because a long time ago, you said we had a destiny—together." 

Lex tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Yes. I suppose we do. Come with me." he said and touched Clark, pressed a finger to his chest, dimpled his shirt, skin, sank inside….

Pain shattered him and as quickly, whisked into nothing. Clark opened his eyes, slowly, and hoped that…that nothing had changed. He opened his eyes wider, and whimpered. The sky was metallic blue--it felt too big, felt like it was a few suffocating inches above them. Lex—Lex poured light into the darkness. It danced off his fingers, streamed out of his too-white flesh. Lex watched him from eyes black as oil, filmed with the same rainbow sheen.

"Cool, hunh?" he grinned and his grin grew wider and wider, filling all the electric blue spaces. Clark flailed, loosing balance. Everything felt—off. Too big, too small, too loud—the sky roared with a sound like a waterfall. Lex reached out and Clark forgot to be afraid. Lex's lips were moving but the roar of the sky deafened him. Clark strained to make out what Lex was saying, until finally a voice in his head said _LISTEN_

_I want to tell you what happened. Everything. From the side of the road to Metropolis to the walk out of the desert. All of it._

Clark nodded, and Lex cupped his head in his hands. 

Clark came. 

It exploded, enlarged him, burned him. It left him reeling, and hollow inside—and Lex filled the void Everything that Lex had experienced, all of it, poured into Clark's mind. He got whole memories, complete with taste, sound, smell, sight: the feel of Mr. Hati's dick lodged in his throat, the scalpel sinking into his ear, burst of champagne on his tongue, thick, greasy feel if blood in his mouth. Felt his intestines rolling hot, slippery and wet against his hands as he pushed them back inside his body, crying, the fingers…viscous red rain dripping into his open mouth and eyes….

Thoughts tumbled so thick and so fast through him that for whole minutes Clark forgot to breathe.

He had—Adam had—no idea, no idea. What Lex suffered would have killed a normal man—would have broken a normal man instantly. Lex, when he broke, still kept a piece of himself alive and before Clark could follow, examine that thought and understand it, Lex said _Do you want to see what I see?_ And rainbow colors shimmered through the metallic blue, strings—threads—vibrated and grew from everything and shot up overhead. Clark looked upward, open-mouthed...threads were everywhere, millions upon millions of strings, writhing and pouring into the sky and he got the sense that Lex knew each of them, their function, their source.

Clark dragged his eyes away from the heavens and all light died. Blackness so total wrapped him up, he only knew by Lex's touch inside of him, that he wasn't alone.

_Look._ Lex 'pointed' up, and Clark saw above the rim of Perfect blackness a white so total it burned his eyes.

There was/it was Nothing. 

He was alone. Trapped under his own skull, aware only of himself, aware of the blood rolling down his cheeks like tears.

In the White were things, so huge it/they filled the white, so vast, so horrible, so cold. "Awful…angels…" Clark moaned as a single being rolled with a sound like thunder, its angles shifted and bled and roared…a huge red eye rolled and swept over Clark and moved past. Its passage ripped Clark into a cloud of particles.

Lex watched the cloud slowly dissipate, become a thin mist. The Thing that had filled Clark, held him together and made him Clark slowly unlinked its tendrils, unweaving from the alien mass like a dance. He was losing interest in the multicolored smear drifting away and the screaming of the angels distracted him. Clark was dead. Lex was bored.  
Time to let go.

Time to move on.

_NO._

 _No. No._  
Something woke painfully, scrambled up from a deep hole inside of him.

_No._

_Put him together – now - or you'll die. We'll die._

Lex laughed. "Lex, Lex, Lex. We can't die. Nothing can hurt us."

_Except us. You will wish you'd died every day for an eternity. Bring him back_

Pain was escalating— Lex was making Lex hurt. "You don't understand. I'm going to fix everything. Make it better. Cleaner. Make it good."

_Bring him back now!_

A savage lance of pain streaked through him, and he flailed outwards, gathered in the threads and motes of gold and red and knit them together, wove them back into a…

 

"…the angels, Lex! Awful…awful…the world. All the people, the hurt, all the pain…"

"Now, you understand," Lex said.

"Yes, god, yes," Clark gasped. "We have to help/kill/ them all."

"No! No, we have to kill/ help/ them."

Pain still coursed through him, and he felt a growing wave of frustration, irritation. This irritating being… "Clark? Killing them _is_ helping them," he explained slowly, patiently. "It won't hurt. I…promise."

Clark was still. That was good. Clark understood, finally. He opened his arms, his mind, reached out—and Clark plunged inside. **Come home, Lex. Come back to us!**

He felt an answering surge inside himself, but fought it, fought Clark, fought the agony Clark caused, the pain ripping through him as Clark searched for—some thing. **please come back, we need you.**

Some…feeling he barely recognized rose, burning like a flame… _hope_ flared, sputtering like wind-blown candle, but it was there, growing…. **let go, *please.* Come back home**

Another surge of fire inside, faded memories grew brighter, flooded his mind. Lex groaned…a fable he'd read as a child flashed into a clear, present memory…The Snow Queen.

**yes, yes, exactly** Clark said, excitement making his words shimmer and glow—suddenly, bodies existed again, veins pumped blood and lungs filled again, Clark twisted and yanked and pulled the strings—

Lex whirled and staggered like a marionette, no control over himself but gradually he felt the rooftop was under his feet again, felt and heard gravel spraying as he whirled and stumbled in Clark's awkward grip. Breath spread warm over the icy skin of his cheek and he heard **let me melt the ice, brother.**

A quick, firm press of soft, very warm lips, and everything changed.

The Angels were gone, the Perfect Black dissolved into the blue sky, roaring overhead. Lex felt the Other in him, felt its hold on him like a flood of fire and ice, like an explosion…felt the world tilt and waver, separating into thin strands….

"Take it back," Lex shouted. "Take it _back."_

The Other grew, struggled to push Clark out, struggled to push Lex out of his own skin.

"Take it back," Lex cried, "I don't want it, I don’t want this—" Ice melted, flame raced over his skin, licked along his nerves. He was in pain, and then he wasn't.

He was alone in a great calm. Just out of his reach, in the center of all, the Thing that cast Its countless threads across every universe sat, humming with power, vibrating with it as It eternally wove the threads 

Lex cried, "Take it back. I give it back."

He closed his hands; bright flares danced across his shoulders, and down his arms, the power tore Clark out of his mind, knocked Clark away to the ground. With a explosive crack, he became the center of a roiling ball of energy, energy that roared off into the night and

_Oh god, he was alone, alone, empty_

He dropped out of the center, fell miles and miles and miles to the rooftop.

Clark woke slowly…every part of him aching and a vague memory of…of…angels, so…awesome…beautiful, all gold and snow white wings stretching for miles, singing for eternity in voices so sweet…the sound melted away like snow through his fingers as he tried to reach for it. It had been beautiful. He was sure of it…a little frown creased his forehead…pretty sure. Really, all he had was a rapidly fading sense of awful…beauty.

He rolled to his back and sat up. Looked across the roof. Where was Lex? He felt him, but couldn't see him. 

He turned to look behind him and jerked in surprise—in the shadow of the smokestacks and ductwork, a stranger sat cross-legged, his upper body slumped forward so that his head rested on his hands and long black hair swept his arms. Clark looked harder—he had the weirdest impression steam was rising from the man's bare back.

Clark staggered to his feet, towards the stranger, calling for Lex, and Adam burst into his thoughts like an explosion. WHERE IS HE? WHAT HAPPENED?

The stranger across from him slid sideways out of the shadows and stronger light turned the black hair a dark red. 

**Oh…oh shit. Oh my…** Clark scrabbled across the short distance, went down on his knees and pulled him close. 

WHAT? WHAT'S WRONG, CLARK?

**Oh Adam, you are not going to believe this**

Warmth…real warmth, made him open his eyes. He was…where he was, wasn't important. He was curled up next to Clark, and that was important.

"Lex, you're wake, thank god."

_Clark…Clark._

"Are you—is everything alright?" Clark hesitated, said, "I can feel you; I can still hear you inside my head—are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Clark. Finally, really, I'm fine."

Clark stroked the soft curve of Lex's cheek and sighed. "Adam's waiting. Let me take you home, Lex."

"Please," Lex said. 

Clark helped Lex to his feet and they watched the sun rise in the sky, pale gold morning light flaring over the towers of the city. Clark took a breath, started, "Lex…there's something I need to ask you…" at the same moment Lex said, "Clark—there's something I have to tell you—" 

Lex raised an eyebrow Clark, waved him on. Clark hesitated, and swallowed, asked, "Did you throw _all_ of it back? Because I can still, y'know _…hear_ you."

Lex drew a fingertip down Clark's cheek, and smirked when Clark shivered at the touch. "Clark, Clark, Clark…what do you think?" He raised a hand to sweep over his head and stopped in wide-eyed shock. "What the hell?"

"There've been some, uh, other changes, Lex." Clark blushed hard, pulled a few long, red strands through his fingers; rubbed them briefly before letting them slip free. "I like it."

Lex pulled at the hair, too, fascinated by the feel of it on his skin, the weight of it... "You like it? We'll talk about that later."

Behind them, unnoticed, a bit of dust wafted it up from the gravel. It whirled slowly and quietly, gathering tighter and tighter together, until a tiny brick-colored top spun in the gravel, throwing off bright sparks before wobbling to a stop and collapsing, brick dust blowing away on the light breeze.

"Hey, Joe—can you pull those chairs over to the common room for the session tonight?" Steven called out on his way through the room.

"Sure, I was just getting to that. Munchkin stopped me—you know how she likes to talk."

"Tell her to do her talking in the kitchen. God, I swear, she's the laziest person in the world." 

Joe grinned, brushed away loose strands of hair that always managed to fall out of whatever tie was supposed to hold it. He dragged a few folding chairs out to the small hallway separating the living room area from the dining / common room. A couple of the kids were getting excited, loud. He sighed when he heard cursing, leaned the chairs against the wall and walked back into the living room. Various bits and pieces of sturdy furniture were covered with teens, all of them focused on a news broadcast. He leaned against the doorjamb, and called out over the noise, "Hey—watch the language, okay?"

"Oh, Mr. Joe, hey look, it's Darknight—Superman—Sorry about that—wasn't me—Jamie won't shut the fuck up—oh sorry—" 

Several voices rang out at once and Joe shook his head. On the television screen, a red and blue clad figure swooped out of the sky, grabbed someone dressed in a black and silver suit from the street and threw him up into the sky. The camera followed the figure as it swung out of range—just before it was totally out of range, the camera caught a pair of glider-like wings snapping into play. The brightly dressed man, flying under his own power, rolled and waved before also disappearing out of camera range.

Steven came up behind him. "Oh, those guys again—dynamic duo, my ass. More like grand-standing show-off vigilantes. With really bad fashion sense." He frowned in a way that, with his delicate bone structure, Joe found cute.

"Grandstanders," Lex agreed. "Those guys are driven by an over-inflated sense of importance."

Another counselor strolled up and punched Joe lightly in the shoulder. "Hey, don't bad mouth Superman around me—Supes and Darknight tackle the scum the cops can't be bothered with. Suicide Slum would live up to its name more often without those guys, you know it."

Steven sniffed. "I guess. But the real heroes are guys like Joe here, and you, and Adam Knight and—"

Marv, the other counselor, chimed in, "Lex Luthor, the guy the place is named after—we've heard it a million times."

Joe nodded. "Really, Steve, you're sort of fixated on the late Mr. Luthor. He wasn't all that great."

"Hey, without him, I'd be dead." Steven snapped. "And without Adam Knight funding these shelters, a lot of these kids would be…well, they'd have less hope of a future."

Joe smiled, and one of the new kids came wandering in from the kitchen. "Hey, Mr. Tyr, your friend Mr. Kent is here."

A couple of the kids made smacking noises; Joe made shushing motions. He looked to the doorway at the sound of an amused little cough, and Clark stood there. 

He was smiling, and Clark smiling never failed to make Joe smile too. His slightly baggy, too big suit jacket sat awkwardly on his shoulders; big tortoiseshell frames masked the beautiful green eyes. He still had his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and Joe grinned. He'd come straight from work to pick him up. Great. Hopefully, Adam was home too. It wasn't often they ate dinner together anymore….

"Hey, Joe, ready to go home?"

Joe glanced at Steven and he nodded, a shy smile lighting up his face as he caught sight of Clark. "Go, go. See you tomorrow, bright and early, right?"

"Of course—am I ever late?"

Steven grinned, "Yeah, yeah. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." That earned him a raised eyebrow from Joe and a wink from Clark.

The two men walked down the wide steps of the brownstone, Clark stopped at the small plaque next to the doorway. 'Lex Luthor House'. Do you ever miss it, 'Joe'? 

"Not for one fucking minute, Clark," Lex said. "Not for one fucking minute."

**The End**

Lex lay back on the couch, legs wide and cradling Clark's head in his lap as his hot tongue swept long lingering licks up his shaft, Clark's fingers stroked little circles over the smooth skin of his stomach and tickled and teased over his balls. They slid up and twisted again and again in the ginger curls his dick rose out of. Lex touched there too, running his fingers under Clark's and cupping his own balls—still fascinated by the feel of hair on his own body.

Lex echoed the moans Clark whispered against his skin in between licks, as Adam nibbled and kissed around Clark's hole. He trailed small bites up and down Clark's cleft and Lex shuddered. Clark groaned and moved back against Adam's twisting tongue, letting Lex's dick slide out of his mouth, and forward to catch it again as it lashed upwards. Lex fucked his mouth slowly, and Clark was moaning, sucking harder, and Lex was gasping, torn between watching Adam, and watching Clark's red, red lips wrap around him, the corners stretch as he tried to get more of Lex in his mouth. Lex felt heat gathering in him, building like a star about to nova….

Adam sat back and pushed saliva slick fingers into Clark--jamming them in quick and deep because Clark liked it like that. Inside him was smooth and hot and tight. He loved the way Clark flexed around his fingers, tightening, releasing him reluctantly as he pulled his fingers back. In again, and he crooked them forward, hitting a spot inside Clark that sent a warm electric shock jangling through the both of them as Clark passed the feeling on. He felt his balls tighten, felt tingling heat run from his ass to his gut to his dick…he worked his way up, licking around his fingers, dragging open mouth kisses over Clark's ass, staring into Lex's eyes the while. "I'm going to make you come so hard," he promised, and skewered Clark again, and again….

Lex felt an echo, a ghost of feeling from Adam: triumph, arousal, love….  
Clark came through to Lex much clearer, his sudden bolt of pleasure as Adam fucked his fingers into him stabbing through the both of them. The confusion of feeling and sensation made Lex's dick jerk and drool and when Clark swallowed the little spurts that rolled over his tongue, Lex felt, and tasted it, too. 

It was too much, always was—Lex cursed, pushed Clark back and stood, "Turn, Clark," and Clark pulled away from Adam and bent, exposing himself to Lex. Lex eased into the softened, open hole, and Clark pushed Adam flat, took Adam's dick in his mouth instead. He jerked himself while Adam fucked his mouth, let Lex fuck him—and opened himself fully to the both of them. Clark was a conduit between the two; the flash of impending orgasm grew, circling, growing, until in a rush Adam cried out and came, lifting his hips to Clark, thick warm fluid filled Clark's mouth.  
Lex groaned as a faint taste unique to Adam washed over his tongue—again as the tight wet heat of Clark clamped around Lex, his muscles clenching and milking an orgasm from him. Red stars bloomed against the black as he squeezed his eyes tight, and rode the rush Clark pulled him into, at the same time as he drifted with Adam, loose-limbed and sated. 

**Love you** Lex heard and felt Clark's complete ecstasy at being fucked before he gently shut Lex out. Lex still felt Clark's pleasure, but from a protective distance. Penetration…still tended to be mixed with an edge of fear, pain, for Lex, but it was getting better, all the time. He rolled to his back, sandwiched between Clark and Adam and sighed in total satisfaction.

In a way, he'd come full circle. He was still wrapped up in the two people he loved most. Only now, he had everything he'd ever wanted. He had Clark, he had Adam, and the means to help people, the way he always had wanted to—though perhaps in a very different way than he'd ever imagined.

Somewhere in the desert, Alexander Joseph Luthor had died. Joseph Tyr was alive, and maybe…an entirely new being. He was certainly more than Lex had been, worlds and worlds _less_ than what had walked out of the desert and for that he was eternally grateful. Outside of this world they'd built for themselves, storms might be raging, the wolf howling at the door, but it was okay. The deal he'd struck with the universe to gain this peace was the best he'd ever made. 

10-18-2006


End file.
